Beside Me in the Morning
by 1220McCormick
Summary: After sharing the deepest part of yourself with the most important person in the world, one should not have to experience the miserable emptiness of waking up alone. Candy, K2
1. Prologue

**Here's the introduction to a story I've been working on. I don't know yet how long it's going to be, but the chapters are going to be much longer than this prologue. I hope you enjoy! Read and review.**

**I don't own South Park.**

* * *

**Beside Me in the Morning**

**Prologue**

Wendy was eight years old when she got her first taste of romance, and it was everything a third grade romance was supposed to be. Stan Marsh was so sickeningly sweet that even the way he vomited from nervousness at her presence was cute. But eventually the novelty wore off and Wendy got tired of Stan. She broke up with him for Token in fourth grade, eager for something new and fresh, but it didn't take being apart from Stan long before she decided he was definitely the one for her. She was back with Stan in no time, but it was never quite the same after that. He stopped getting nervous around her and she stopped caring, and by the summer following fourth grade they ended their relationship by mutual agreement. And just like that, her first romance ended, making way for many more to come.

In fifth grade, Wendy discovered that Clyde Donovan had a crush on her. She decided to make him her boyfriend, not because she liked him, but because no one else was showing any interest in her. Why would they, when she was best friends with Bebe Stevens, who had blossomed at an early age and just couldn't seem to stop getting prettier every day? Why Clyde liked Wendy was beyond her, and why she would rather be with a guy she didn't like than be single was an even bigger mystery. Wendy learned a couple of valuable lessons that year. First of all, she learned that convenience was not the most important factor in choosing a boyfriend. And secondly, she learned that Clyde Donovan had about as much personality as a dry sandwich.

In sixth grade, Wendy fell for Brad Dixon. Two weeks later, Brad started dating Bebe. At twelve years old, Wendy experienced what she thought was her first heartbreak.

During the summer after sixth grade, Kenny McCormick hit a growth spurt, and when he showed up at school on the first day of seventh grade without the familiar orange parka he'd finally outgrown, girls started to discover that he was good-looking, Wendy included. She was still flat as a board, but for some reason, Kenny seemed to like her back. After two months of dating, she decided that Kenny was The One. And she told him so. When Kenny asked her whether that meant she'd start putting out for him, she dumped him. Kenny quickly got over it.

In eighth grade, Wendy dated Craig Tucker. It was around this time that Eric Cartman started harassing her more and more. Bebe blamed this on Craig's utter apathy towards Wendy and life in general. Bebe wasn't a feminist like Wendy, and firmly believed that a boyfriend should defend his girlfriend against assholes like Cartman. Craig argued that Cartman was a dick to everyone, so Wendy shouldn't expect special treatment. She spent the entire year being harassed by Cartman and listening to her best friend and her boyfriend argue. Somehow, she wasn't surprised or angry when Craig dumped her for Bebe.

In the middle of ninth grade, Wendy suddenly and unexpectedly found that she'd caught the eye of Kyle Broflovski. When he asked her out, she accepted, wondering why she'd never pictured the two of them together before. Kyle was smart and easy to talk to. She would sit with Kyle's friends at lunch, and the two of them dominated the conversations, much to Cartman's dismay, never running out of subject matter. They just made sense as a couple. They got along and had loads in common. Maybe too much in common. During the four months that they dated, they kissed a total of three times, each kiss more awkward than the last. When she asked him if he was gay, she found that she'd come to the right conclusion. When they broke up, they just told everyone that they were better as friends.

She continued hanging out with Kyle's friends after that, finding she got along with them better than she ever did with Bebe and her other friends. Kyle said it was because she was too smart for them; Bebe didn't surround herself with the most remarkable people. Cartman said it was because of Bebe's bad habit of stealing her boyfriends. Although Wendy could hardly blame Bebe for being so fucking pretty while she herself was—as Kenny so graciously put it—butch. He blamed this on the fact that she never did get boobs. It was true. Wendy was fifteen and still flat as ever.

So there she was, one of the guys, spending lunch hour with a firmly closeted Kyle, legendary sex-god Kenny, bigoted and fat as ever Cartman, and…Stan. Her very first boyfriend. To whom the years had been so…_so_ good. And she found herself spending more and more time thinking about him.

Cartman told her one day that even though she'd gone through the rest of his friends, he refused to be her next romantic "victim". She told him that could only ever happen in his dreams, and that she was back on Stan anyways. Not that Stan seemed to notice. Could she blame him? He'd had his own share of girlfriends, and he hadn't liked Wendy in that way since they were kids.

For whatever reason, Cartman promised not to tell Stan what he knew. However, that didn't stop him from teasing her incessantly whenever the object of her affection wasn't present. Wendy learned to ignore the fatass's comments, but Kyle would flush with anger and jump to the girl's defense, and Kenny would roll his eyes and smile as if he knew something the rest of them didn't.

When Stan started dating Bebe, Cartman was the one to break it to Wendy, and he didn't do it delicately. She didn't know what she wanted to do more; take out that bitch Bebe or wipe that stupid smirk off of Cartman's face. But it didn't matter. Neither would make Stan hers again.

By the time she was sixteen, Wendy was sure of two things. The first was that she was head-over-heels for Stan Marsh. The second was that she hated Eric Cartman with every fiber of her being.

Cartman, on the other hand, was sure of only one thing. That he was in love with Wendy Testaburger.

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**School starts for me in just over a week, so updates may not be very frequent. But the first official chapter should be up soon.**

**Oh, and I have to thank Bialy for getting me into the Candy pairing and for getting me completely pumped to write this story. Hope it lives up to every expectation.**


	2. Dude This is Pretty Fucked Up Right Here

**This chapter took me way longer to write than I thought it would, and I guess that's because it ended up being way longer than I intended. Anyways, here it is. Hope you enjoy. Don't forget to review!**

**I don't own South Park.**

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**Beside Me in the Morning**

**Chapter 1: Dude, This is Pretty Fucked Up Right Here**

"So get this, you guys…"

"And ho," Cartman reminded Kenny, pointing at Wendy.

"Don't call her a ho, Cartman," Kyle said.

"Kyle, I can speak for myself. Don't call me a ho, Cartman."

"You guys…and Wendy…I'm telling a story here."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Go on, Kenny."

"Okay, so I was in study hall trying to lift a turkey sandwich off Clyde's backpack when Heidi comes up to me and asks me to talk to her in the hallway."

"Why do you always try to steal food from Clyde in study hall?" Stan asked.

"Because my family is poor and Clyde's mom makes one hell of a sandwich. Now stop interrupting me."

"Go on," Wendy told him.

"Okay. So I go out to the hallway with Heidi and she tells me she's three months pregnant but not to tell anyone."

"So you're telling us," Kyle said.

"Well the story wouldn't make any sense if I didn't tell you she's pregnant," Kenny reasoned.

"And in your warped mind, that justifies it?" Wendy asked.

"Can I continue?"

"Go ahead."

"Okay. So she tells me she's pregnant and _then_ she tells me not to worry; it's not mine."

"She told you it's not yours?" Stan asked.

"Yeah. Can you believe that? A girl tells me she's pregnant, and she thinks that I'll automatically assume it's mine."

"Did you even sleep with her?" Stan asked.

"That's the thing. I don't remember! So it's a damn good thing the kid's not mine. Can you imagine eight years from now, me having the sex talk with my kid and telling him I don't remember doing it with his mother?"

"You're gonna give your kids the sex talk when they're seven and half years old?" Cartman asked.

"Sure."

"Is that when your parents had the talk with you?"

"Yeah, Cartman. When did your mom give you the sex talk?"

"She _never_ gave me the sex talk. She still tells me the men she brings home at night are television repairmen who are over to fix the TV in her bedroom, which I'm to believe breaks every fucking night."

"My dad had the talk with me when I was twelve," Stan said. "No wonder you're so messed up, Kenny. Your parents screwed you up early in life."

"Can we get to the important issue here?" Kyle asked. "The fact that Kenny can sleep with a girl and _not remember_."

"Yeah, that's pretty messed up, Kenny," Wendy agreed.

"Just because you two are a couple of bitter virgins…"

"Virgins, yes. Bitter, no," Kyle cut him off. "Sex means something to some people, Kenny."

"So, uh," Stan pointed back and forth between Kyle and Wendy. "You two never…?"

"No!" they cried in unison, and Cartman snorted.

"Shut up, fatass. You've never done it either," Kenny retorted.

"Whatever, Kenny. Like I'd want to fuck any of the girls at this school anyways. They've all probably contracted some ghetto strain of STD off of you already anyways."

"I don't have an STD."

"_That you know of_. You didn't put that bun in Heidi's oven either, but that doesn't mean there aren't already six or seven miniature Kenny McCormicks running around terrorizing South Park and trying to cop a feel at their baby sitters."

Kenny grinned. "Yeah, that's definitely what my kids would be like."

"Are you really _joking_ about this?" Kyle cried. "Shouldn't you be taking this a little more seriously? I mean I never thought I'd say this, but Cartman has a point. What if you really did end up knocking up some girl?"

"God, Kyle, why do you even care?"

"Is it so wrong that I care about you?"

Cartman snickered. "Do you have to sound like such a fucking fag all the time, Kahl?"

"Shut up, fatass," Wendy hissed.

"What's with you two defending each other all the time?" Cartman asked, looking from Kyle to Wendy. "You sure you two are broken up?"

Wendy glared at Cartman. "You _know_ I don't like Kyle that way."

Cartman, Kyle, and Kenny all looked knowingly at Stan, who just stared back at them, oblivious. "What?" he asked, noticing all eyes on him.

Wendy buried her head in her hands, groaning audibly at her friends' lack of subtlety.

Cartman's eyes darted back and forth between Wendy and Stan. "What about you, Stan?" he asked finally.

"What about me what?" Stan replied.

"Well, have you and Bebe ever, you know…?" He smirked evilly at Wendy. "Done the deed?"

All color drained from Wendy's face. Kenny snorted, but Kyle was quick to jump to Wendy's aid.

"Shut up, Cartman," he said. "Stan doesn't have to answer that."

Stan scratched his neck awkwardly. "Thanks, Kyle."

"No, you know what?" Wendy spoke up, turning to face Stan. "He should answer the question."

Stan blushed. "What if I don't want to answer?"

"But we're all curious now," Wendy insisted. "Come on, just tell us. You know about our sex lives."

"Or lack thereof," Kenny added under his breath. Kyle elbowed him in the side.

Stan bit his lip as his four friends watched him curiously. Finally, he caved under their stares. "No, okay? I've never done it either."

Wendy sighed with relief, turning back to her lunch. Cartman watched her reaction through narrowed eyes, stabbing angrily into his macaroni.

"Don't worry about it, Stan," Kenny said. "Just give it some time."

"I wasn't worried about it, Kenny. It's just that some people aren't as comfortable talking about this stuff as you are."

"You're a prude," Kenny concluded.

"You're a dick," Stan retorted.

"Don't you ever want to be with someone special?" Kyle asked Kenny seriously. "I mean, don't you ever get tired of waking up with a different girl every morning?"

"'Every morning' is an exaggeration, Kyle. You make it sound like I get some every night." Kenny chugged down the last of his lukewarm milk. "Besides, they're always out of my bed by the morning."

The others at the table stared at their far more experienced friend, not knowing whether to feel envy or pity for the boy.

Kenny eyed Stan's baked potato. "Are you gonna eat the skin, dude?"

* * *

"Why are you sitting here instead of with your boyfriend?"

Bebe shrugged. "Because I like you guys."

She wasn't lying. Sure, Craig was apathetic if not downright gloomy most of the time, and Clyde wasn't the most clever or charismatic guy in South Park, but they were a sweet pair of guys underneath it all. They really did come as a pair, too. You rarely saw one of them without the other, which was probably why they had such terrible luck with girls. Bebe was the only girl anyone ever really saw them with, and everyone knew they were just friends with her.

She'd been hanging out with the two of them for years. Since fifth grade, actually, when Wendy started dating Clyde. It just happened naturally. Wendy and Bebe were inseparable at the time, and Craig and Clyde were a set, so the four of them just started spending all of their time together. Of course, Clyde was "in love" with Wendy, so he'd always try to be alone with her. What they did together during this alone time was beyond Bebe, since they were only eleven, and she was pretty sure Wendy was not all that into Clyde. Bebe and Craig, in the meantime, would usually play "TV Dub", a game of theirs that involved watching the TV on mute and replacing the muted sound with their own more interesting dialogue. They tried to get Wendy and Clyde in on their game a few times, but Wendy said it was a waste of time and Clyde's dubbing always sounded like the boring stuff that the muted people were probably actually saying, which obviously took the fun out of it.

Why the four of them continued hanging out after Wendy dumped Clyde, Bebe wasn't sure. But she didn't mind either. She'd grown quite fond of the boys, and more importantly, comfortable with them. The truth was, she just wanted to fit in. At that time, she was still more developed than any of the other girls, and she did her best not to stand out, wearing baggy T-shirts and taping down her constantly growing breasts. She wished people would notice her for something besides her looks, which was the reason she was always secretly jealous of Wendy. Of course, she could never tell her best friend this, because she knew Wendy would take it the wrong way.

As if Bebe needed more reason to be jealous of her friend, Wendy started dating Craig in eighth grade, and Bebe couldn't understand why the hell this bothered her. She began picking fights with Craig over anything she could think of, and to her surprise, the normally emotionless Craig started fighting back. Eventually this turned into an all-out war between the two of them, which got on everyone's nerves, especially Wendy's. It took Bebe by surprise when Craig broke up with Wendy. She always thought it would be Wendy who would do the breaking up, seeing as Craig was the most infuriating boy Bebe had ever met. She was even more surprised when, a few weeks later, Craig asked her out. The most surprising thing of all, though, was that Bebe accepted.

This didn't seem to bother Wendy, even when Craig and Bebe openly held hands in front of the girl. Holding hands was the only public display of affection that Craig was comfortable with, but this was fine with Bebe, because it made those private moments even more special. Wendy, meanwhile, moved on quickly to Kyle Broflovski, and began distancing herself from the group. Bebe broke up with Craig around this time, mostly out of fear of their group disintegrating further. Clyde was already becoming an awkward third wheel, and Bebe couldn't help but blame her relationship with Craig for Wendy's drifting.

When Wendy didn't return to the group after breaking up with Kyle, Bebe was sure their fifteen-year friendship was over. Whenever one of them broke up with a boyfriend, they always took their spot back in the foursome as if they'd never been gone. But this was different. It was as if Wendy wanted out this time. Which was why, in a desperate attempt to keep her best friend from drifting any further away from her, Bebe started dating Stan.

Somehow, this plan backfired royally. All she'd wanted to do was find a way to spend more time with Wendy and her new friends, but her normally outgoing ex-best friend seemed to close up whenever she was around. It was almost as if Wendy was angry with her about something. It couldn't have been the Craig thing, could it? That seemed like ages ago. Both girls had clearly moved on from Craig by tenth grade. So what the hell was Wendy's problem?

Bebe sighed, planting her chin in her palm.

"Of course you like us. Why else would you put up with us for all these years?" Craig replied. "But seriously, why aren't you sitting with that pretty boy boyfriend of yours?"

Bebe shifted uncomfortably. "I…I don't think Stan's friends like me very much."

"All of them?" Craig asked. "Or are you talking about one in particular?"

"Okay, fine. Wendy hates my guts. Are you happy?"

Craig shrugged. "As close to happy as I can get, I suppose."

Bebe glared at him. "You're such an asshole, Craig."

"Why wouldn't Wendy like you?" Clyde asked. "You two have been best friends for as long as I can remember."

"I know," Bebe murmured sadly. "But every time I sit over there, she gives me this _look_. Like I'm encroaching on her territory. And then when I ask her a question she addresses her answers to Kyle. She clearly doesn't want me around."

"And the rest of Stan's friends?" Clyde asked. "How do they treat you?"

"Well Cartman gets really weird and starts talking to Wendy about how good Stan and I look together, then Kyle gets all pissed at Cartman and starts yelling at him to shut the fuck up, and Kenny watches until it no longer amuses him and then turns to me and says something sexist like that I should wear something more form-fitting."

"You've always just been better off with us," Craig told her. "Which is why you ought to forget about making nice with Wendy and just dump that meathead boyfriend of yours."

"Craig, Stan's not a…"

"Not a what?" Stan asked, appearing out of nowhere and sliding onto the seat beside Bebe, slipping an arm around her slender waist.

"Hey, you," Bebe greeted him. "What are you doing here?"

"Got sick of my friends. They're being dicks and Kenny's helping himself to my lunch right now."

"Well I can't promise Craig and Clyde will be better company."

"Hey!"

Stan just smiled. "Sorry I didn't call you last night. I know I said I would, but my dumbass sister dropped my phone in the dishwater. I'm getting a new one tonight."

Bebe frowned. Had Stan promised to call her? "Er…That's okay."

"Wanna go to the mall with me later?"

"OMG, that sounds like sooooo much fun. You can go to the Verizon store together, and then you can get 'his' and 'hers' sweaters and prance around the South Park mall being adorable together."

"Shut up, Craig. I'd love to, Stan."

"Great. I'll pick you up after school."

Bebe bit her lip as she watched her boyfriend rejoin his friends. It wasn't that she didn't _like_ Stan. He was a great guy. He was smart, warm, considerate…and the fact that he was handsome didn't hurt either. But perhaps he was _too_ perfect. He had no irritating habits that drove her up the wall. He never said the wrong thing or laughed at the wrong time or tried to go too far with her. Nothing he did ever made her feel angry or hurt or frustrated or…anything. That was the problem. When Bebe looked at Stan, she felt _nothing_.

* * *

"So Kyle," Wendy said, as the two of them walked home from school hand-in-hand. Cartman had told them quite a few times that Kyle didn't have to walk Wendy home anymore since he was no longer her boyfriend, and that it was fucked-up that they still held hands like a cozy little couple, but neither of them cared. Since they had never really liked each other in that way, they didn't see any reason to change their relationship once they removed the "boyfriend, girlfriend" labels. "Do you like someone?"

"How many times have I told you, Wends? Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I want to have these 'girl talks' with you."

"It's not a girl talk, Kyle. And you can't pull the 'just because I'm gay' card every time I ask you a personal question. So?"

Kyle shrugged. "Why do you care?"

"You were being kind of weird today at lunch. You were all, 'Don't you ever want something real?' or whatever. I mean, you sounded gayer than usual. I figured it meant you're harboring a crush on somebody."

Kyle blushed. "Jesus, Wendy…"

"So? Who is he?"

"I don't want to tell you," Kyle replied.

"Why not?" Wendy asked. "It's not Stan, is it?"

"No! God, no."

"Well, you two are best friends."

"Exactly. We're best friends. Practically brothers. Making out with Stan would be like making out with…you."

Wendy frowned. "Gee, thanks."

"You know what I mean."

"Fine. So why don't you want to tell me who it is?"

"You'll laugh."

"No I won't."

"You will."

"Why? Is it Cartman?"

"Gross, Wendy."

"Is it Clyde? He's gotten kind of cute," Wendy teased, bumping hips with Kyle as they walked. "He's got the personality of a wet mop, but that sweet ass makes it almost worth it, no?"

"Now you're just being a bitch, Wends."

"You know I'm kidding, Kyle. Besides, it's pretty obvious you like Kenny."

Kyle's eyes bugged out. "How did you…?"

"Relax. No one else will figure it out. I'm the only one who knows you're gay. Your secret's safe with me."

"It doesn't matter anyways," Kyle muttered. "Kenny's as straight as they come."

"Hey, you never know. Kenny could be very open-minded. Sex is just sex to him, after all."

"Thanks, Wendy. That's strangely un-comforting."

"So why do you like Kenny anyways?"

"I don't know. Why do you like Stan?" Kyle countered.

"How do you not like Stan?" Wendy replied. "He's perfect."

"Except for the fact that he's dating your ex-best friend."

"Well, yeah. There's that."

Kyle sighed. "Why do we have to like the wrong people? You know, if you and I were actually attracted to each other, we could have been a really good couple."

"Hey, I _was_ attracted to you for a while. I was never, like, in love with you, but I was attracted to you. I don't go out with guys I'm not attracted to. Not since fifth grade."

"When you dated a wet mop."

Wendy shrugged. "Whatever. Elementary school relationships don't really count anyways."

"Which would make your first real boyfriend…Kenny?"

Wendy laughed. "Oh, god. Can we just say that seventh grade doesn't count either?"

"I think they all count," Kyle replied. "I mean, they've all shaped who you are now. You learned just as much from Clyde as you did from, say, Craig, right?"

"I guess so."

"I have a theory."

"Yeah?"

"I think you're supposed to go out with Cartman next."

"What the hell, Kyle?"

"Well your first boyfriend was Stan. And you went out with Kenny in seventh grade and me last year. Maybe you have to get Cartman out of the way before you can repeat the cycle and go back to Stan."

"You'd better be joking."

"Of course I am."

"Good. Do me a favor, Kyle. If I ever find myself attracted to Eric Cartman, find a big rock and hit me with it until I come to my senses."

* * *

"How come no one ever comes down here?" Kenny asked, rummaging through a stack of old records.

"Because this place gives me the fucking jibblies," Cartman replied. "Now will you help me find that stupid comic book that supposedly is worth so much money so we can get the fuck out of this rat-infested dungeon?"

"Okay, first of all, you can't just sell that thing on eBay, okay? It's priceless."

"You'd sell it if you had a measly scrap of paper that was worth that much."

"Well yeah, _I_ would. But that's because my family can barely afford food. You, on the other hand, have never missed a meal in your life. Or you look that way, at least."

"You're so funny, you know that? I'm seriously, your wit never ceases to astound me."

"And secondly…" Kenny glanced around the dark basement, which was cluttered with treasures from Cartman's childhood. "This place isn't half bad. I mean, if you fixed it up a bit, it could be a cool place to hang out. Maybe invite girls over…work your magic on them…" The blond couldn't hide the grin on his face.

"Goddamnit, Kenny, quit laughing. The concept of me with a chick is not as impossible as you seem to think it is."

"But seriously, man, look around. You've got a couch that looks about a thousand times more comfortable than the one in my living room. A record player. Pool table." Kenny pulled a ragdoll from a nearby toy chest. "And these faggy dolls you used to play with as a kid."

Cartman strode over to the skinny boy and snatched the doll away from him. "You leave Polly Prissypants out of this."

"You should think about it though. I'd help you clean this place up. No charge. 'Cept you'd have to let me come over here whenever I want."

"You already _do_ come over whenever you want. Which is a hell of a lot more than I want you around. You've outworn your welcome by about twelve years, McCormick."

"Don't lie, Cartman. You like having me around. I'm way too fucking cool to hang out with you. I only do because we're best friends."

"Ey! You are not too cool for me. _I_ only hang out with _you_ because I feel sorry for you. Because you're so damn poor."

"If you felt sorry for me because I'm poor, you'd share your breadsticks with me at lunch instead of complaining that they're too dry and throwing them away."

"Beggars can't be choosers, Kenny. You eat them anyways. Fresh out of the trash, just like you like 'em."

"I do not eat out of the trash, fatass!"

Cartman grinned. It was a game the two of them liked to play, to see who could get the other to snap. They were only half serious with their insults. Cartman and Kenny had been best friends since they were kids. It was basically by default at first, because Stan and Kyle were so fucking inseparable that people began to think they were gay for each other. It only made sense that Kenny and Cartman should become best friends. But over the years, their fondness for each other grew genuine, and while they weren't a couple of fucking pussies about it like Stan and Kyle were, they really did care for each other.

Cartman shoved a cardboard box aside to make room on the old couch as he thought about this. He never really took a lot of time to contemplate his friendship with Kenny, and the more he thought about it, the less sense their relationship made.

"Kenny," he said finally. "Why are we best friends?"

"You really don't know?" Kenny replied.

"Besides that we both want to avoid being the awkward third wheel in Stan and Kahl's gay little bromance?"

"You mean you don't see it? Dude, we have a shit ton in common."

"Like?"

"We both do whatever the hell we want, regardless of right or wrong."

"True."

"We both think Stan and Kyle are a couple of fags."

"Also true."

"We both think girls are a fucking waste of time."

Cartman cocked his head to the side. "_You_ think girls are a waste of time?"

"Yeah, dude."

"But you _love_ girls."

"I _have fun_ with girls. I don't believe in love."

"You don't?" How was it that Cartman didn't know this about his best friend?

"Well, I guess I believe in love. I just don't think it's something that could happen to me."

"You're immune to love?"

Kenny shrugged. "I just think there are two kinds of people. There are people like Stan or Wendy, who can meet someone and fall in love with them, and there are people like you and me, who just don't know how."

Cartman stared at Kenny, a distant look in his brown eyes, and Kenny stared back, studying his friend's expression. He seemed pensive. Thoughtful. Almost sad. Kenny wasn't sure what to make of it, but it seemed he'd come to the wrong conclusion about Cartman. He looked away. "Or maybe it's just me."

Kenny had known since eighth grade that Cartman had a crush on Wendy, but he honestly didn't think the fatass was capable of actually _loving_ her. He wanted to ask Cartman when this happened, but he knew his friend would get angry if he pressed any further, and it wasn't worth the argument that was sure to follow. He sighed. He'd always found comfort in thinking that this inability to love was something he shared with his best friend, but no, even Cartman could fall in love. The idea made him strangely jealous, and it bothered him that he could be jealous of Cartman over anything.

"Found that comic book yet, poor boy?"

"What?" Kenny replied, snapping out of his thoughts. "Oh, yeah." He picked up a thin comic book that he'd set atop the stack of old records. "I found it about five minutes after we came down here."

"Then why didn't you tell me, asswipe?"

"Because I knew you were scared of your basement and I wanted to piss you off."

"Fuck you, Kenny."

* * *

Wendy's ringing cell phone was a welcome distraction from her untouched history homework. She dropped her pen, reaching for the phone and staring at the contact ID. Unknown number.

She hit send. "Hello?"

"Wendy."

"Stan? I didn't recognize your number."

"New phone," Stan explained. "I got your number from Bebe."

Wendy's face fell. "Oh. Is she there too?"

"She went to GameStop or somewhere. Something about Craig's birthday coming up."

"That's Bebe," Wendy remarked. "So thoughtful. Thinking of Craig, as always."

"They're friends, Wendy."

"Friends who used to be more than friends."

"Like you and Kyle?"

"That's different."

"How?"

"Kyle's…Well, it just is."

"Right."

Wendy spun around in her desk chair, staring out the window as she twisted a lock of black hair in her fingers. "But doesn't it bother you how much time she spends with Craig?"

"Why should it?"

"Well he obviously still likes her."

"No he doesn't. They're just friends."

"Trust me, Stan, you can be in love with someone you're just friends with."

"Even if he does like her, it doesn't matter because she's dating me. I trust Bebe."

"That's good, I guess."

"She misses you, you know."

"Bebe?"

"Yeah. She talks about you all the time."

"It's not like I fled town or anything. She sees me every day."

"Yeah, but you two never really talk anymore."

"We drifted apart. Childhood friends drift apart all the time. It's natural."

"Couldn't you just try hanging out with her again? For old times' sake?"

"Stan, we have nothing in common anymore."

"Yeah you do. You're one of my closest friends and she's my girlfriend. So you have me in common."

Ouch. That stung. "Stan…"

"It could be fun. I know how you love reliving old memories. And I've seen that old Kleenex box where you keep every note you and Bebe ever passed in junior high."

"Well as much as I love reliving the good memories, it's a little hard to overlook the bad."

"What bad memories? You two were best friends."

"You wouldn't understand."

"Come on, Wends. Just hang out with her. For me."

Wendy sighed. "Fine. I'll hang out with Bebe some time. For you."

She could practically hear Stan grinning at her. "Thanks, Wendy. You're the best."

"Yes I am."

As she gazed out her window, she spotted a faded gray hoodie that nearly blended in with the bleak sky and the wet slush that covered her driveway. The figure made its way to her door, and she could hear the faint sound of her doorbell from downstairs.

"Hey, Stan, I've gotta go. Kenny's here for some reason."

"Okay. Hey, will you tell him to text my new phone so I have his number?"

"Sure thing."

"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye, Stan." The other end went dead, and Wendy looked down at her phone sadly. "I love you," she murmured before snapping the cell phone shut.

"Unrequited love," she heard a voice from her doorway say.

Wendy rolled her eyes. "You got up here fast. What do you want, Kenny?" she asked, turning her chair to face him.

"Came to see if you have any boxes," Kenny explained, making himself comfortable on her neatly made bed.

"Boxes?"

"Yeah. You know, rectangular prisms? Hollow? Made of cardboard?"

"What for?"

"Cartman's mom is making him clean his basement and I volunteered to help."

Wendy stared at him blankly.

"What?"

"Cartman's mom never makes him do anything. And you never volunteer to help."

"Hey, I'm a good friend."

Wendy raised an eyebrow at the blond boy.

He shrugged. "Okay, there might be a meal or two in it for me."

She nodded. This much made sense at least. "I might have some boxes for you. So, what's Cartman's basement like anyways?"

"You're lucky you don't have to see it. It's full of Cartman's old toys and yearbooks. Baby pictures, old records. The place _reeks_ of nostalgia."

Wendy perked up. "Can I help you guys?"

"You _want_ to help?"

"Yeah. I mean, if Cartman doesn't mind having me around."

"God, I don't know, Wendy."

"Please, Kenny?"

"Hmm…okay. I guess he can handle it."

Wendy got to her feet and strode over to her closet, opening it and pulling folded-up boxes from the top shelf. "You guys should have asked for my help from the start. I _love_ this kind of thing."

With her back to Kenny, she couldn't see his devious grin. "Really? I had no idea."

* * *

When I started writing this story, I intended for it to focus mainly around Cartman and Wendy. But I've added so much crap about the other characters, it's turned into quite a mess. Anyways, this is a Candy story. The characters just have to be stupid and fuck everything up before that can happen. I have nothing further to say about this chapter, so I'll just share an unrelated Cartman quote: "Sorry, I'm not interested in being friends with midgets. Midgets piss me off. Frowney face." Yep, okay, please review.


	3. I'm Not Fat, I'm BigBoned

**Gah, I'm so sorry this took so long. It was painful to write. I changed my mind a million times about where I wanted to take this chapter, and I kept distracting myself with little Crenny side projects and useless stuff like schoolwork. I'll warn you now, I didn't proofread as extensively as I should have, because I just wanted to get this chapter posted already. I think I'm happy with...parts of this chapter. Anyways, you don't care what I think of it. I want to know what YOU think. So please review!**

**I don't own South Park.**

* * *

**Beside Me in the Morning**

**Chapter 3: I'm not fat, I'm big-boned.**

"I'm back, dude!" Kenny shouted, ushering Wendy into Cartman's house. "I brought Testaburger!"

Cartman emerged from the kitchen, frowning at his best friend. "Why the hell did you do that?"

"She wants to help us clean your basement."

Wendy dropped her folded up boxes at Cartman's feet as evidence. Cartman stared blankly at the heap of cardboard.

"I told you, Kenny, I don't want to go back down there."

"Come on, man. Wendy's dying to play with your junk. _Oof_."

"What Kenny means," Wendy said, withdrawing her elbow from the blond boy's gut, "is that I want to see what kind of old stuff from your childhood is down there. I live for nostalgic crap like this."

"You don't want to go down there," Cartman assured her. "It's dark and dusty…too spooky for a woman."

Wendy crossed her arms. "I'm not a pansy-ass, Cartman. I'm not scared of your basement."

"Besides, the job involves cleaning," Kenny pointed out. "Which we all know is women's work, so Wendy's really the perfect one for the—_oof_! WOULD YOU QUIT DOING THAT?"

"When you stop talking like a sexist pig!"

"I'm only trying to speak in a language that Cartman will understand. Jesus. Why do you have such bony elbows, woman?"

Wendy cupped her bony elbows in her hands. "I have a petite build."

"You're flat too."

"Shut up!"

"Don't talk about her tits, dude."

Kenny raised his eyebrows at Cartman, who just stared back uncomfortably.

"What? You don't talk about a female friend's boobs. It's fucked up. Even I know that."

"Thank you, Cartman." That particular combination of words felt strange in Wendy's mouth, so she said it again, just to adjust to the feeling. "Thank you, Cartman."

"You don't have to thank me twice, ho."

"Once for each boob," Kenny explained, kneeling down to pick up the boxes from the floor.

"For God's sake, Kenny," Cartman muttered.

"So are we gonna go to your basement or what?" Wendy asked impatiently.

Cartman sighed. "Fine. Follow me."

Cartman led Kenny and Wendy to the basement stairs, grabbing Wendy by the forearm before they descended. "Careful," he warned her. "It's dark."

"Let go of me, Cartman," Wendy replied, jerking her arm away from the beefy teen.

"Pssh. Fine, bitch. I was just trying to be helpful. It won't happen again."

Wendy stomped down the stairs ahead of the guys, and Kenny rolled his eyes, shoving the stack of boxes into Cartman's arms. "Word of advice, asshole, the way into her heart is _not_ by calling her a bitch."

Cartman gaped at him. "What the fuck makes you think I like Wendy?"

"Uh…I'm not stupid?"

"What? I don't like…"

"Cartman, chill. In case you couldn't tell, I'm trying to help you out here. Why do you think I brought her over?"

"Because you get your giggles watching me squirm?"

"…and why do you think I'm acting like an even _bigger_ jerk to her than you are?"

Cartman grunted, and Kenny took this as an invitation to explain.

"Because it makes _you_ look like a gentleman in comparison. Especially with you defending her the way you did. I was impressed."

"Why should that surprise you? I can be a good guy."

"Sure, dude."

"Guys!" Wendy shouted from downstairs. "Are you coming or what? Don't expect me to do this myself just because I'm a girl!"

"Well?" Kenny said, gesturing for Cartman to move ahead of him. "Lead the way, _loverboy_."

* * *

"You think he'll like it?" Bebe asked, tucking the video game back into the GameStop bag.

Stan shrugged. "I don't know Craig as well as you do." He tried to keep the irritation out of his voice. Bebe had been talking about Craig an awful lot, and Wendy's words were starting to get to him. What if Bebe _did_ like Craig?

He tried to shake the thoughts away. If Bebe liked Craig, she wouldn't be dating Stan, would she? Bebe had been the one to break up with Craig, after all, and she'd been the one to ask Stan out. Clearly, that meant she liked Stan and not Craig, right?

"I'm probably worrying over nothing," Bebe admitted. "Craig always likes whatever I get him."

"Of course he does." He couldn't bring himself to sound at all sincere, but Bebe didn't seem to notice.

"I can tell when he likes what I get him, because he does this thing with his cheeks that's, like, _almost_ a smile, but not really. It looks more like a wince, but with Craig that's a good thing, because it means he's showing an effort, which is really the most you can ask from him. He doesn't have the widest emotional range."

"Why do you even hang out with Craig?" Stan realized his question made him sound like a jealous boyfriend, so he quickly tacked on, "…and Clyde?"

"Because they're fun."

Bebe noted his skeptical expression and shook her head lightly.

"I know Clyde doesn't seem like the most remarkable person in the world, but he's a really sweet guy. And funny once you get to know him."

"Clyde's alright," Stan admitted. "But Craig's kind of—"

"Watch what you say. That's one of my best friends you're talking about."

"I was just gonna say that he's a little…standoffish."

"That is _not_ what you were gonna say."

"Fine. I was gonna say he's an asshole. I just…I don't really trust him."

"This coming from a guy who hangs out with Eric Cartman, who I can trust about as far as I can throw. Which isn't far, since I wouldn't be able to get that fatass off the ground with a catapult."

"Hey," Stan replied. "Cartmen happens to be…" His voice trailed off as he wracked his brain for a positive attribute. He came up with nothing. "No, you're right. He's a dick."

Bebe was about to respond when her phone began to ring in her pocket.

"Three guesses who that is," Stan muttered.

Bebe flipped him off—a habit she'd picked up from Craig—and flipped her cell phone open. "Hello? Oh, hey Craig." Stan narrowed his eyes. "This had better be good. You know I'm out with Stan right now."

Well, at least she still remembered he was there. It gave Stan at least a tiny flicker of optimism. Craig had an annoying habit of calling Bebe whenever he knew she was with Stan. A habit which hadn't bothered her boyfriend all that much before that day.

"Slow down, Craig," Bebe said. "What about Clyde? What happened?" Long pause. "Well, is he okay?" Brief pause. "Thank god."

Okay, so maybe this time it was serious.

"What's up?" Stan asked, placing a hand on his girlfriend's shoulder.

She covered the mouthpiece with her palm. "Clyde hurt his wrist in a fishing accident."

"How the hell do you hurt yourself fishing?"

"Who knows with Clyde?" Bebe returned her attention to Craig. "So is it broken?" Pause. "Surgery? When?" Pause. "Monday! But that's…" Pause. "Who cares if his wrist cartilage can't mend itself? He can't have surgery on your birthday!" Long pause. "Of course I'll still be there. My limbs are all perfectly intact." Pause. "Who needs Clyde? We can have fun just the two of us." Brief pause. "Okay, I have to go, Craig. Stan's got this killer death grip on my shoulder for some reason, which I think means it's time to hang up."

Stan released his clutch on Bebe's shoulder. "Sorry. I didn't realize…"

"Bye, Craig. Yep, love you too."

Bebe flipped her phone shut and Stan wrinkled his forehead, not sure which part of that discussion to comment on. Her phone conversations with Craig always ended with, "Love you too," but before his chat with Wendy, Stan never gave it a second thought. Bebe and Craig were just really good friends. At least he thought they were. Kyle acted the same way with Wendy, and he assured Stan numerous times that there were absolutely no romantic feelings behind all of his seemingly more-than friendly gestures.

"Surgery?" Stan said finally, breaking the brief silence.

"Yeah, he tore the cartilage or something when he fractured it."

"So…just you and Craig for his birthday then, huh?"

"Looks that way."

"What are you gonna do?"

Bebe shrugged. "Probably the usual. A couple beers. A few rounds of pool. Maybe a movie afterwards. Same as every year, just sans Clyde."

"Sounds…fun."

"I always have fun when I'm with Craig," she replied, walking ahead of Stan.

"Yeah, I'll bet," Stan muttered, pulling his new cell phone from the pocket of his jeans.

"Aren't you coming?" Bebe asked, turning to look at her boyfriend.

"Yeah, hold on," Stan replied. "I just need to text…my mom."

Bebe watched him patiently as he typed a quick text and then slipped his phone into his pocket, jogging forward to catch up with her. He slipped an arm around her shoulder affectionately.

"Let's get out of here."

* * *

Wendy groaned.

"What's up?" Cartman asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

She looked up from her cell phone, the glowing screen lighting up her face in the dimly lit basement. "Text message from Stan. He asked me earlier to hang out with Bebe. Wants me to try for Monday."

"Sounds like torture," Kenny commented. "Spending an afternoon with the girl you called your best friend for most of your life."

"It _wouldn't_ be torture," Wendy replied. "If Stan didn't also call her his girlfriend."

"Well I think Stan and Bebe make a great couple," Cartman put it, flopping down on the old sofa and rummaging through a box of old photo albums. "A match made in heaven, really."

"Shut up, Cartman. I know you only say shit like that to bug me."

"No, it's true. They're both just so darn good-looking. Bebe with her blonde hair and killer body, and Stan with his big blue eyes and toned abs…"

"_Fag_!" Kenny coughed into his hand.

"Shut up, hoodrat!"

Wendy rolled her eyes. "Why do you guys always insult each other like that?"

Cartman shrugged. "He whores himself around in the ghetto, therefore, he's a hoodrat. It's simple."

"Not that. I mean the way you call each other gay all the time. It's offensive."

"We're teenage guys," Kenny replied. "Everything about us is offensive."

"But what if one of your friends really was gay? Would that be so bad? Would you just stop hanging out with him?"

"Only if it was Kahl," Cartman said. "I can deal with a Jew, and I could share a lunch table with a fag, but I'd have to draw the line at a Jewfag."

Kenny rolled his eyes. "Well I wouldn't have a problem with it. Unless he was hot for _me_. That would just be awkward."

Wendy sighed. "You guys are jerks."

"Would you have us any other way?" Kenny replied, rummaging through a tote full of clothes. "Cartman, what the hell is this stuff?"

Cartman glanced up at his best friend. "Oh, that? Just some of my mom's old things. From when she was a kid."

Wendy wandered over to Kenny's side and pulled an article from the tote. "_These_ are the pants your mom wore as a kid?" she cried, stretching the sweats to their full width.

Kenny chuckled. "Eric Cartman, there might be hope for you after all."

Cartman snorted. "Yeah, well, anyone can lose two hundred pounds if they eat nothing but celery and laxatives all through high school."

"Don't ever diet, Cartman," his best friend replied. "We like you fat."

"I'm not fat!"

"If you ever lost weight and somehow became _good-looking_ on top of being an evil genius, I'd truly lose all faith in justice and karma and all that shit. But since you're fat, I can put up with all of your bullshit and your constant insults because I can still take comfort in the fact that at least you're too fucking fat to ever get laid."

"Kenny!" Wendy cried. "That's a terrible thing to say. Even if it is about Cartman."

"Yeah, seriously, Kenny. What kind of best friend are you?"

"I'm _your _best friend," Kenny replied simply, as if this explained everything perfectly. And when Cartman thought about it, it kind of did.

The large boy huffed. "Yeah, well, I'm not too fat to get laid. I'll bet you I get laid before Kahl does."

Kenny snorted. "Well, Kyle will have a better chance once he removes that stick from his ass."

"Don't talk about Kyle that way," Wendy defended the Jew.

"Yeah, Kenny. Don't badmouth Kahl," Cartman put in bitterly. "Wendy's still half in love with him, remember?"

"I was never in love with him," Wendy replied. "But he is one of my closest friends. And yours."

"Yeah, my close friend who's got a stick up his ass."

"Kenny…"

"No, seriously. Kyle's cool, but sometimes he gets so high and mighty that I just want to…"

"Kick him in the nuts?" Cartman supplied.

Kenny nodded as he began sorting through a stack of VHS tapes. "Did you hear the way he was lecturing me today?"

"He cares about you."

"Well I care about him too, but you don't see me trying to dictate his life."

"Kyle pretty well-adjusted," Wendy pointed out. "He doesn't need _your_ help making good decisions."

Kenny scoffed. "What, you think just because I'm not a genius like him I don't have wisdom I could share with him?"

"Like what?"

Kenny began tossing the tapes into one of Wendy's cardboard boxes. "Like he's never gonna lose his virginity if he doesn't lose that stupid trapper hat first. His hair's really not so bad. And he should wear tighter pants."

Wendy wrinkled her nose. "Tighter pants?"

"Yeah. I know it's usually a turn-off, but that's only because most guys can't pull off skinny jeans. But if you've got the ass for it, you really ought to take advantage, and Kyle's got…"

"Jesus Christ, Kenny," Cartman cut him off. "Who's the fag now?"

"I'm not gay, Cartman. I just notice these things."

Wendy shook her head, chuckling lightly, and Cartman wondered what it was about that no-good Jew that always made her so goddamn giggly.

He rolled his eyes, tossing her a black trash bag. "The fat pants get thrown away."

Wendy began chucking Mrs. Cartman's childhood clothes into the trash bag as Cartman sifted through an old photo album under the light of his cell phone. Kenny finished boxing up the video tapes and sauntered over to Cartman's side, gazing at the album over the hefty boy's shoulder.

"Hey!" he said, grinning. "It's me with my old parka! Jesus, look how skinny I was."

"You're still skinny," Cartman replied. "Like fucking Jack Skellington."

"I am not!" Kenny shot back, lifting his shirt to reveal a flat, white stomach. "Look, you can't see any ribs or anything."

"Can't see any muscle either."

It was true. Kenny was not known for his killer body. He was so lanky, in fact, that Cartman wondered how the little bastard managed to lure so many girls into the sack. But what Kenny lacked in physique, he made up for with piles of golden hair and enthusiasm.

"Leave him alone, Cartman," Wendy said. "It's not like you've got a body worth bragging about."

"At least I've got some meat on my bones."

"Tell me about it. You could feed the McCormicks for a year."

Kenny grimaced. "Hey now," he said, chuckling nervously, and Cartman swore his best friend shot him a glance that looked almost like _sympathy_. "He's not _that_ fat. And my family does just fine without resorting to cannibalism."

Cartman rolled his eyes. "While we're discussing inadequate bodies, _Butch_, I might remind you that _Stan_ prefers a more womanly figure like Bebe's over your A-cups."

Kenny shook his head as Wendy's face grew red with anger and embarrassment. "Fuck off, fatass!"

"_Guys_," he said, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. "We're all _friends_ here. We insult each other only out of love, not hatred."

Wendy crossed her arms stubbornly. "Cartman and I aren't friends."

"Yes you are."

"I hate that bitch," Cartman responded.

"No," Kenny said, shooting Cartman a meaningful glare, "you _don't_. Now apologize."

"No."

"_Apologize_."

"Who made you king of the fucking basement?"

"_Cartman_."

Cartman gritted his teeth. "I'm sorry, Wendy," he grunted.

Kenny turned to Wendy. "Your turn."

Wendy rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry, Cartman."

"Very good," Kenny said, as if he was talking to two misbehaving five-year-olds instead of two of his closest friends. "Now hug it out."

Cartman and Wendy both gaped at him. "No!" they cried in unison.

"Hug," Kenny insisted.

"No."

"Fuck you, Kenny."

"Hug, goddamnit or I'll bend you over my knee!"

Cartman seriously doubted that Kenny would resort to that sort of corporal punishment with him, and that he could even overpower him if he tried, but the bulky teen sighed and stood up anyway, opening his arms and offering Wendy a not-so-inviting smile. Wendy pouted, but walked toward him and allowed herself to be wrapped into his chubby arms.

"There now," Kenny said, smiling proudly. "Doesn't that feel better?"

"I guess so," Wendy mumbled, her voice muffled against Cartman's soft chest.

Cartman squeezed a little tighter than he'd meant to, humming softly as he breathed in the scent of her hair. She smelled like coffee and vanilla. When she relaxed into the hug, he forgot what he'd been so angry about just seconds earlier, and just let himself think about how _right_ she felt in his arms.

"Alrighty then," Kenny said, clapping his hands together loudly. "I have a hot date tonight, so I'll just leave you lovebirds to it."

Wendy pulled away and Cartman watched dejectedly as she went back to throwing away his mom's old clothes.

"A date with who?" he asked his best friend.

"Don't know yet," Kenny replied, already ascending the wooden stairs. "But give me a couple of hours, and I'm sure I'll manage to lure _someone_ into my bed."

"Kenny, you slut!" Cartman shouted after him. The only reply he got was the slamming of his basement door.

Wendy cleared her throat nervously. "It's just you and me I guess."

"Guess so," Cartman replied, plopping back down on the old couch.

She tucked a lock of black hair behind her ear. "Dark down here."

He stared at her. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but he got the feeling if it hadn't been so dark down there, he'd be able to detect a soft blush creeping into her cheeks.

* * *

It was Kenny's hair, Kyle concluded, that made him so fucking attractive. It had to be the hair. His body, while not deformed in any way, left something to be desired, and his face, though symmetrical and in perfect proportion, was just a face, really. The only thing truly unique about Kenny McCormick's appearance was that thick, perfect, messy-on-purpose golden coif.

Wendy hadn't been the first to notice it when Kenny arrived at school in seventh grade without the familiar orange parka he'd grown up in. Somehow, though, she'd been the first to manage to snag the suddenly-attractive towhead, and when Kyle recognized that painful sting in his chest as jealousy, he realized he was gay.

Upon his discovery, rather than try to suppress his unfamiliar feelings, he explored them, letting himself wonder about different South Park guys he'd grown up with. Naturally, the first person he considered was Stan. He was closer to Stan than anyone else in the world, so it seemed plausible that he could develop feelings for the boy. But although Stan was smart, funny, and devilishly handsome even at thirteen, Kyle couldn't imagine kissing him without feeling a little sick to his stomach.

Kenny, while not as handsome as Stan, seemed like a far more appealing choice to Kyle. Sure, the kid was fucked up in more ways than Kyle could count, and he'd never be as close to him as Stan was, and his best friend was Eric Cartman of all people, but there was something positively magnetic about Kenny's personality. He liked to test boundaries. No rule was ever written that wasn't made to be broken. No topic was too taboo. It was as if he liked to see just how far he could push the envelope before he found himself in serious shit, or worse, dead.

Yeah, that still happened on occasion.

There was another thing Kyle found fascinating about Kenny. No matter how terribly the world fucked the kid over, he always seemed high on life. Nothing could get him down. And it was contagious, apparently, because Kenny could put a smile on anybody's face without even trying.

The problem with Kenny, though, besides being straight as a rod, was how carelessly he treated life. Something about always coming back from death, Kyle supposed, took the value out of life. And love, it would seem, carried the same importance to the blond.

After Wendy broke up with him, Kenny moved on quickly, chasing girl after brainless girl. Kyle, in the meantime, played straight-man, dating a few girls but never getting into anything serious. That is, until freshman year, when, in a brief lapse of judgment, Kyle began flirting with Wendy Testaburger.

Looking back on it later, Kyle wondered how he ever could have ever mistaken Wendy for the type of girl you flirted with without the intention of starting something serious. In more ways than he could count, she was the female version of himself, and seeing as he took things like love quite seriously, it made sense that Wendy would too, and that she'd eventually start calling herself his "girlfriend".

He went along with it for a while. Why the hell shouldn't he? After all, he liked her well enough. She was smart and sassy and the more time he spent with her the more he enjoyed her company. He even thought, for a while, that maybe he was attracted to her. He decided to test this theory one day by kissing her. Why shouldn't he kiss his girlfriend after dating her for two months? He asked her politely one night if he could, and she told him that she was his girlfriend and he didn't need permission, so he took a deep breath and dove right in. The kiss was dry and awkward, and the two made a silent agreement never to speak of it again.

A month later, he tried it again. He caught her by surprise this time, cutting her off as she was stewing angrily about something Cartman had said to her, and she gasped and pulled away, immediately wiping off her mouth. Kyle did the same. Spontaneity, it seemed, did not make kissing Wendy any more enjoyable.

Wendy initiated the third kiss, and it went pretty much like the second, except that this time it was Kyle ranting about Cartman and Wendy silencing him with her lips. It lasted a few seconds, and when it was over, Kyle blurted something along the lines of, "God Wendy, what the hell?" and Wendy simply replied with, "Are you gay?"

Yes, Kyle was definitely gay, and Wendy was far too smart for him to put it past her. It was amazing how Wendy could figure him out so easily after being close to him for four measly months, while Stan remained oblivious to it after being his best friend their entire lives.

"Are you sure you two don't like each other?" Stan was asking Kyle as they walked side-by-side down the halls of South Park High.

"I'm positive, Stan."

"But you made such a good couple. And you're still really close. I don't see why you don't want to give it another go."

"Because we don't like each other that way. We're just friends."

"But," Stan objected, as they made it to their lockers, "if you were _more_ than just friends, you and Wendy could double with me and Bebe. Wouldn't that be cool? And it would make Bebe really happy."

"And she'd think you were the best boyfriend in the world and she might even sleep with you," Kyle finished, tugging his locker door open.

"Hey, I have needs."

"So do I," Kyle replied. "For example, I _need_ to date people I'm actually attracted to and I _need_ a best friend who doesn't want to use me to get his girlfriend into bed."

"Kyle, I want her to be happy. I'm not _just_ trying to get her to sleep with me," Stan defended himself. "I actually do like Bebe, you know. I'm not Kenny."

"Oh, god," Kyle muttered. "A world with two Kennys. Can you imagine?"

"So how about it?" Stan asked. "You, me, Bebe and Wendy. Coffee at Tweek's, maybe a movie after…"

"You are _not_ trying to set me up with Kyle."

The two boys turned around to see Wendy standing there, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

Stan waved sheepishly. "Hey Wends."

"I already agreed to hang out with Bebe. Now you want me to go on a double date with my ex-best friend _and_ my ex-boyfriend?"

"Two ex-boyfriends," Kyle corrected. "Fourth grade still counts."

Stan grinned. "Speaking of Bebe," he said, clapping Wendy on the shoulder, "don't forget to ask her to hang out on Monday."

Wendy groaned. "I won't forget. But why Monday? I'm helping Cartman clean out his basement, and I was hoping I'd have Monday to…"

"You're helping Cartman clean out his basement?" Kyle cut her off.

"Monday," Stan repeated.

Kyle wrinkled his forehead. "Isn't Monday the twenty-fifth?"

Wendy shrugged. "I think so. Why?"

"Well isn't the twenty-fifth…?"

"The day Wendy is going to hang out with Bebe," Stan finished for him. He stared pointedly at her. "Don't forget to ask." And without another word, he strolled off to his first class, leaving Kyle alone with Wendy.

"So," the redhead said, breaking the silence after a few moments. "Cartman's basement? That had to be weird."

Wendy shrugged. "Not so much. Kenny was there too. Most of the time."

"Is that so?" Kyle tried not to sound too interested. "Did he, uh, have anything interesting to say?"

"About you?" Wendy asked with a grin.

Kyle flushed. "That's not what I…"

"He did, actually."

Kyle's eyes widened. "He did?"

"You came up in conversation, yes."

"Well?" If Kyle was trying not to seem interested now, he was failing miserably. "What did he say?"

She shrugged. "Oh, you know. Just that you'd look better without that hat. And your ass may have been mentioned once or twice."

"My ass?"

"Your ass is legendary, Kyle. Don't act like you didn't know."

"I _didn't_."

"Well now you do," Wendy replied, slapping said ass lightly and causing Kyle to jump. "I have to go find Bebe before class, I guess, so I'll see your ass later, kay?"

"Okay," Kyle mumbled, as Wendy wandered away.

His blush grew deeper as he spotted a certain blond down the hall chatting it up with some skank. _God_, that hair. Having such sexy bed head should not have been legal. Or possible, even. Licking his lips nervously, Kyle reached up and pulled the green hat off of his head, shoving it somewhere deep inside his locker.

* * *

"Did you at least catch the fish?"

Clyde sighed heavily, resting his head against his locker. The two sat in the hallway as they usually did in the mornings, leaning against their lockers and ignoring the passing students. Craig normally would have been there with them, but he was stuck in the principal's office for some reason, and Bebe had the sneaking suspicion that he'd been caught trying to set something on fire again.

"No," Clyde mumbled. "Damn thing got away."

Bebe laughed. "That must have been _some_ fish."

"It's not funny!" he cried, and he probably would have crossed his arms childishly across his chest had it not been for the brace on his wrist and the sling over his shoulder. He settled on pouting.

"Oh, come on, Clyde. I'm not making fun of you."

"You're laughing at me."

"No I'm not," Bebe insisted, forcing a straight face. "I'm not."

Clyde looked up at her, his brown eyes wide with emotion. It took everything in Bebe's power not to break into another grin. Goddamnit if he wasn't the most adorable thing on the face of the earth. "Craig's mad at me."

"For fracturing your wrist? Come on, Clyde, you know that's not true."

"But I'm gonna miss his birthday."

"To have _surgery_. He understands."

"That's what he said," Clyde muttered. "But I could tell he was mad. You know how Craig is about his birthday."

Bebe nodded. Craig never made a big deal over anything, but she and Clyde both knew that his birthday was always a big deal, no matter how indifferent he tried to be about it. The twenty-fifth of January was Craig Day as far as he was concerned, and he fully expected his two best friends to honor him with their utmost attention.

"Don't worry about it," Bebe insisted. "I'll work double-time to make his birthday awesome. He'll barely notice you're missing."

Clyde rolled his eyes. "There's only one way you could make him happy that I'm not there."

Bebe glared at her friend. "I have a _boyfriend_, Clyde. And it's not like that between me and Craig anymore, so don't even go there." And since Clyde was obedient to a fault, he didn't.

"Just help me make it up to him on Tuesday, okay?"

"Promise," Bebe replied, holding out her pinky. Realizing Clyde was physically unable to accept her pinky-swear, she settled for ruffling his hair affectionately.

"Bebe, don't," he whined, shaking his brown locks back into place.

"You're such a girl, Clyde," she teased. "I swear, you get more emotional than I do when I'm on the rag."

"Gross. Don't talk about that stuff," Clyde said, grimacing. "And it's not me. It's the meds."

"Trust me, Donovan. It's you."

Clyde held up his good hand and flashed her Craig's favorite finger.

"I love you too, Clyde."

"Bebe?"

The two friends looked up, surprised to see Wendy standing before them, looking anxious. The bad kind of anxious.

"Yeah?"

"Can I talk to you?"

Bebe shot Clyde a nervous glance before rising to her feet and following Wendy to a more secluded area of the hallway. "What's up?" she asked.

"Um…I was wondering…if you wanted to…hang out…with me."

"Are you serious?"

Wendy nodded, plastering a smile onto her face.

"I…yeah. I'd like that."

"Great," Wendy replied, but Bebe couldn't tell from her voice if she actually felt that way. "Monday after school, okay?"

Bebe's face fell. "Monday?"

"Yeah. Why? Is Monday a problem?"

"Kinda. What about Sunday? Would Sunday be okay?"

"I'm going to Cartman's on Sunday."

"Monday's bad for me," Bebe replied. "I have plans."

Wendy shrugged. "Oh well. I tried. Maybe another time."

Another time? Fat chance. Bebe was blown away that Wendy even bothered trying once. She bit her lip sadly as her ex-best friend turned to walk away.

"Wendy, wait!" she blurted.

Wendy turned around slowly. "Yeah?"

Bebe tugged guiltily on a strand of blonde hair. "Monday's fine," she mumbled.

"But you said you had plans."

"I can cancel…postpone them. I can hang out with you on Monday."

"Okay," Wendy said, her face twisted in confusion. "I'll see you Monday then."

Bebe watched as Wendy sauntered off to class, and she felt something hard and unpleasant forming in the pit of her stomach. "See you Monday," she repeated.

* * *

**So, let me know what you thought, and feel free to point out any blaring mistakes. Was Kyle's background story too much? I feel like maybe I was repeating myself too much, since I already told it from Wendy's and Bebe's points of view, but I really enjoyed writing that part. And I'm pleased with myself for actually doing something with Stan.**

**My first story was way easier to write than this one is. I miss writing it :(**


	4. Screw You Guys, I'm Going Home

**None of the stories I've been following have updated lately, and it's pretty depressing. But I figured I should update my own story before moping over other people not updating theirs. So I sat myself down at my computer, determined to have this chapter posted TONIGHT. That was last night. Yeah, FAIL, anyways…**

**So, guess what? This chapter actually has some Candy in it! I know, right? I think I've gotten a little side-tracked with Bebe lately. But I had to remind myself while writing this chapter that this is WENDY'S story. Gotta put more Wendy in it. So, yeah, I put in some Candy and (gasp, NO!) even a little bit of Stendy. Enjoy! And please review!**

**I don't own South Park.**

* * *

**Beside Me in the Morning**

**Chapter 3: Screw you guys, I'm going home.**

"I think you take me for granted. Because you know I'll be your friend no matter what."

"Craig? Again with the guilt trip?"

"And it shall continue. Until you realize how fucking stupid it is that you're ditching your _friend_ on his _birthday_ for your ex-best frenemy who's probably only hanging out with you because your dumb-ass boyfriend told her to." Bebe shot him a look, and he shrugged. "What? You know I'm right."

The two sat on opposite ends of Clyde's couch, each clutching unopened text books. Clyde sat at Bebe's feet, cross-legged with a notebook spread out in front of him, trying his best to scribble down geometry proofs with his left hand.

"Maybe Wendy just wants to hang out with me."

"Well she couldn't have picked a better day," Craig grumbled. "You'd think she'd remember that Monday's my birthday, seeing as she was supposedly my friend too. The dumb twat."

Clyde frowned. "Craig…"

"What?"

"Don't use that word. It's disgusting."

"I'm not in the mood to censor myself today," Craig replied. "Not since this traitor informed me that she's bailing on my birthday for pillow fights or manicures or whatever the hell girls do when they're alone together."

"Hey!" Bebe cried defensively. "It's not just me! Clyde's copping out too!"

Clyde looked up at her, hurt. "Couldn't find a bigger bus to shove me under, Bee?"

"Hey, don't turn this around on Clyde. He's excused because he's got a boo-boo arm. It's not his fault he was outsmarted by a fish."

"I was not outsmarted by a fish!"

"We're gonna make it up to you, Craig," Bebe assured him. "On Tuesday, we're gonna devote the entire day to you. We promise."

"Awesome," Craig deadpanned. "Just pencil me in for Tuesday. So glad you could find room for me in your busy schedule. Seeing as you're doing something _more important_ on Monday. My birthday."

"Craig, I'm _sorry_. Please don't be like this."

"I'm sorry, is my behavior upsetting you?"

"I get that you're mad, but you're not making things any better by being bitter and sarcastic."

"I didn't realize it was _my_ job to make things better. Seeing as _you're_ the one ditching me on my birthday."

Bebe sighed. "I'll cancel with Wendy, okay?"

Craig blinked. "You will?"

Bebe nodded. "If it means that much to you, I'll tell her I can't do Monday. It's important to you, so…"

"Christ, Bebe, never mind. Do your stupid girl thing with Wendy."

"But you just said…"

"That it's important to _me_," Craig cut her off. "I don't want you doing this unless it's important to _you_."

"Jesus, Craig, what the fuck _do_ you want?"

"I want you to realize that Clyde and I are more important to you than this stupid obsession with Wendy!"

"I just want my friend back. Is that so wrong?"

Craig rolled his eyes. "Wendy's not your friend anymore."

Bebe glared. "Fuck you, she is too."

"If Wendy was your friend, she would give a flying fuck about you," Craig replied. "She would sit with you at lunch, and she would listen to your problems, and she would put her hand on your shoulder when you're upset, and she would draw on your face when you're passed-out drunk, and she would scold you when you insist on taking dangerous shortcuts on your way home from school, and she would threaten old creepers who try to feel you up when you cut through that sketchy alleyway. Now, let's see… Who does all of those things for you? Oh, right. Me and Clyde."

"You're right, Craig," Bebe said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "This right here…this is a picture of a healthy friendship. Arguing all the time over complete shit. Acting like a jealous, possessive boyfriend at the mere mention of spending an afternoon with Stan or Wendy or anyone that's not you. Telling me that you're the only one who gives a shit about me. Yeah, that's my idea of a good friend."

"_You're_ ditching me on _my_ birthday and _I'm_ the bad friend?"

"Craig," Clyde whispered. "You're shouting."

"I _told_ you I would cancel, but apparently my offer wasn't sincere enough for you."

"Do you _want_ to cancel your plans with Wendy?"

"No."

"Well why the hell do you think I want you around on my birthday when you want to be somewhere else? Does that sound like a good time to you?"

"Fuck, Craig, what do you want from me?"

Craig sighed, standing up from his place on Clyde's couch. "Nothing. I don't want anything from you, Bebe."

Clyde frowned deeply. "Are you leaving?"

"I don't want to be here anymore," Craig said simply, walking toward the door.

Bebe crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back against the couch. "Yeah, well, good riddance."

Craig turned to face her as he clutched the brass doorknob. "Someday," he promised her, "you're gonna realize how much I mean to you."

And without another word, Craig was gone.

Bebe shook her head. "What crawled up his ass and died?"

Clyde groaned. "Here it goes."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about history. And how it repeats itself."

"Clyde, _what_?"

"It starts with one of you feeling jealous and abandoned," Clyde explained. "Next you're getting at each others' throats. Before you know it…"

"Stop right there," Bebe cut him off. "Don't even go there, or I swear to God, a broken wrist will be the least of your problems."

Clyde pouted, rubbing his brace tenderly. "I don't see why you two have to be mean to _me_ whenever you're mad at each other. It's not my fault you can't contain all that sexual tension…OW! Fuck, Bee, broken wrist, remember?"

* * *

"So…no more hat? Did you lose it or something?"

Kyle rubbed his red hair awkwardly. "Just…outgrew it, you know?"

"It's about time!" Kenny shouted from Stan's kitchen. "You look way better without it!" The blond emerged from the kitchen with one of Stan's dad's beers and a bag of Doritos. "Now everyone can see your pretty curls."

Kyle blushed. "My hair isn't _pretty_. It's a pain in the ass."

Kenny took a seat on Stan's couch beside the redhead, petting his curls affectionately. "But it's so damn _adorable_."

"Shut up, Kenny," Kyle muttered, shoving his hand away.

Stan frowned. "My dad's gonna notice if I keep letting you guys drink his beers."

"Your dad doesn't suspect a thing," Kyle assured him, swiping the bottle Kenny had just opened and taking a sip.

"Gross! Jew germs!"

"Shut up, Kenny."

"Filling in for Cartman, Ken?" Stan asked, snatching the beer from Kyle. "Where is that bastard anyway?"

"He and Wendy are cleaning his basement," Kenny replied. "I helped out yesterday, but today I figured I'd give them…bonding time."

"In other words, you're a lazy shit?"

"Bingo."

"How'd Cartman sucker Wendy into cleaning out his basement for him?"

"He didn't. She practically begged him to let her help. Must be that feminine instinct, I guess. Always gotta clean something. OW, Kyle!"

"Don't be a sexist jackass, Kenny. Wendy's my friend."

Kenny rubbed the sore spot on his side where Kyle had just elbowed him. "And you've got a fuckload in common, asswipe. Are you sure you two aren't fucking?"

Kyle rolled his eyes. "We're _just_ friends. It is possible, you know, for a guy and a girl to just be friends."

"Sure, if one of them is gay."

"Kenny!"

"I'm kidding, Kyle. Of course it's possible for a guy and a girl to just be friends."

Stan shifted awkwardly. "Is it?"

Kyle and Kenny both turned to face the brunette, sensing a bit of insecurity in his voice.

"What's up, Stan?" Kyle pressed.

Stan sighed. "Do you… Do you guys think Bebe likes Craig?"

Kyle snorted. "Why the hell would anyone like Craig?"

"Dude, I'm not into guys," Kenny put in. "But I'm pretty sure that you're about three hundred percent more attractive than that fucktard."

"Definitely," Kyle agreed. "You're way hotter than Craig. I mean, if I liked dudes you would be."

"Although…"

Stan cocked his head to the side. "What, Kenny?"

"Well, you're obviously better looking than Craig," Kenny began. "And you're a hell of a lot more pleasant. But Bebe and Craig...they have a lot of history together."

"That doesn't mean they like each other," Kyle argued.

"No," Kenny agreed. "It doesn't. But, I'm kind of the resident sexpert around here, and I know sexual tension when I feel it. And those two have a lot of it."

"So…" Stan said. "She likes him?"

"I didn't say that," Kenny replied. "I said 'sexual tension'. It doesn't mean they like each other."

"But they're like best friends," Stan pointed out.

"Still doesn't mean she likes him," Kyle replied. "If you ask me, it's more reason for her _not _to like him. I mean, liking your best friend is pretty weird."

"I wouldn't worry about it, Stan. Bebe gets, like, six offers a week, and she chose _you_. She must like you."

"I guess," Stan mumbled. "It's just that Wendy said…"

"Wendy?" Kyle cut him off. "Dude, I love Wends and all, but she is the last person you want to take relationship advice from."

Stan frowned. "How come?"

"Because," Kenny replied. "You don't listen to advice from a person who has a personal stake in the matter."

"_Kenny_," Kyle hissed, glaring at the blond.

"What do you mean?"

"_Nothing_," Kyle said, before Kenny could get in another word. "Just that Wendy kind of hates Bebe."

"That's right," Kenny agreed hastily. "It's like last year when I was trying to get that German foreign exchange student to sleep with me, and you guys kept telling me to stop letting her hang around because you thought her accent was annoying."

Kyle blinked. "Yeah, Kenny," he deadpanned. "This is exactly like that."

Kenny shrugged. "So I'm bad with comparisons." He reached across Kyle's lap to snatch the bottle of beer away from Stan. "All I'm saying is that Craig is nothing to worry about. I wouldn't do anything rash just yet."

Stan bit his lip. "Of course not."

* * *

"What is this?" Wendy giggled, emerging from behind a stack of boxes with a large corkboard.

It was Saturday morning, and Wendy and Cartman had accomplished quite a bit since Thursday afternoon. Most of the old junk that had littered the floors was neatly packed away in boxes, ready to be sold or donated or whatever the fuck Cartman was planning to do with all of it. They'd found an old record player, which Wendy neglected to inform Cartman was probably old enough and in decent enough condition to be worth a good deal of money, and had it playing some soft music in the corner. She liked the old machine, and she had no intention of letting Cartman sell it. There was something beautiful about the way dust settled into the grooves of the records, and the way the needle scratched against the surface of the vinyl added to the nostalgic atmosphere of the cluttered basement. She smiled to herself each time a record would skip. They'd also found some old kerosene lamps, which Cartman surely knew were antiques, and they gave the room an almost romantic feel. Or they would have, Wendy amended, had she been down there with somebody other than Cartman.

Most of the treasures they'd uncovered in the basement, like the lamps and the record player, had been passed on to Mrs. Cartman from some dead relatives, which is why Wendy was so amused to find the old bulletin board of Kenny's. "'Kenny's most wanted,' she read, turning the board around so Cartman could see it.

Cartman laughed, eyeing the crude drawings of naked women with breasts larger than their heads.

"I think we were playing cops or something. God, Kenny's tastes haven't refined much, have they?"

Wendy shook her head. "It's all about boobs and asses with that kid."

"Makes you wonder why he ever went out with you."

Wendy's face contorted in anger. "Fuck off, Cartman!"

Cartman grinned. "That's probably why."

Puzzled by this statement, Wendy let her guard down momentarily. "Huh?"

"That cute little face you make when you get angry," Cartman explained. "And the way your ears get all red. That's probably what Kenny liked about you."

Wendy snorted. "The guy who's been obsessed with boobs since he was weaned off his mother liked me for my angry face?"

"You'd be surprised, Wendy. When you get all hot and bothered like that, it can lead a guy to wonder about what kind of face you'll make in _other_ situations, if you know what I mean."

"Cartman!"

He laughed, dodging the heavy corkboard that came flying his way.

"Careful, bitch," he warned, without a hint of malice in his voice. "Kerosene lamps sitting around, in case you've forgotten."

"You're such a dick, Cartman."

"Yes I am," Cartman replied, shoving the now broken bulletin board into a black trash bag. "Speaking of dicks, what the hell did you ever see in Kenny anyways?"

"Hey, Kenny can be surprisingly charming when he tries."

"And Craig?" Cartman pressed. "I don't suppose it was his irresistible charm that attracted you to him."

"Craig was…" Wendy thought hard about this. "Craig's smarter than people give him credit for. He can be startlingly insightful, you know? It's just passion that he lacks."

"Except when it comes to Bebe," Cartman pointed out.

Wendy sighed. "…yeah."

Cartman took a seat on the couch. "Why do you hate Bebe so much?"

"I don't _hate_ Bebe. I just…hate being in her shadow. I mean, we had a lot of fun together when we were best friends, but when I started to get jealous of her it made me hate _myself_ a little bit. It was too hard, having a best friend who's so stunning that _everyone_ wants to be with her."

"Hey, I'm best friends with Kenny McCormick," Cartman reminded her. "I feel your pain."

Wendy rolled her eyes. "That's true."

They sorted through boxes in silence for a good five minutes before Cartman spoke again. "You know, Wendy, Bebe's pretty and all, but you're… Well, you're smart and strong and passionate… You have a lot of things that Bebe doesn't."

"But _she_ has Stan."

Cartman rolled his eyes. "Well _Stan_ has a small penis, so I guess nobody can have everything."

"That's not funny, Cartman."

"Who says I was joking? I've seen it before, and believe me, it's tiny. It's like, if the average guy is a salmon, then Token's a bull shark and Stan's a minnow."

"You're disgusting."

"When that guy finally gets laid, Bebe's probably not gonna feel a thing. That's how small he is."

Wendy suddenly felt sick. "Cartman, stop."

Cartman looked away guiltily, and Wendy could tell that he knew he'd gone too far.

"It's not easy, you know. Liking someone who likes somebody else," Wendy told him, her voice so soft she could barely hear herself over the record player. "It's tough, Cartman. You don't… You don't know what it's like."

"Who says I don't know what it's like?"

Wendy stared at him, astounded, and waited for him to continue.

He took a deep breath. "I do. I get it. It's like…they're so close, you can reach out and almost touch them…but you can never quite have them. And it fucking hurts."

"Do you…like someone?"

Wendy couldn't figure out why this idea pissed her off so much, but she did her best not to show it.

Cartman shrugged. "It's nothing."

"Who?" Wendy asked, genuinely interested in the answer, although she wasn't sure why.

"It's nobody. Just a girl. You don't know her."

Wendy bit her lip and kicked at a busty nude drawing that had fallen from the corkboard when she'd chucked it at Cartman. Suddenly desperate to change the subject, she picked the page up, folded it quickly into a paper airplane, and sailed it toward her companion. It hit him in the chest, and landed pathetically on his lap.

"So, you and the guys were cops, huh?" she said. "You guys used to play down here a lot?"

"Oh yeah," Cartman replied, seeming relieved at her decision to switch topics. "All the time. My basement was the shit. Until the Jew broke the light fixture on the ceiling and it got too dark to play down here. Then my mom started using it for storage."

Wendy rolled her eyes. "Everything's Kyle's fault, isn't it?"

"Damn straight."

* * *

Kyle watched the warm white mist from his breath fade into the chilly air. January was always especially bitter in South Park, and Starks Pond was completely frozen over, a fresh blanket of snow covering the icy surface. The redhead was perched on a low branch of a tree, wrapped up in a yellow fleece blanket and clutching a thermos of scalding coffee in his left hand. He stared out at the frozen pond, silently cursing himself for abandoning his hat in his locker. The thing might have been ugly as fuck, but at least it kept his ears warm.

"Aren't you gonna come down here with me?" Kenny called from below. He was lying on his back, arms crossed over his chest for warmth, on top of the spot on the frozen pond where he'd just finished making a snow angel.

Kyle couldn't help but smile at the sight. The way Kenny was lying there, it really did look like the sloppy white wings of the snow angel were protruding from his own torso. The idea of Kenny as an angel just seemed appropriate somehow, Kyle decided. He wished he had a camera.

"No way!" he shouted back, wrapping himself tighter in his fleece blanket. "I'm not in the mood to have my ass soaked with snow."

"Come on, Kyyyyyle!" Kenny whined, managing to drag Kyle's one-syllable name into three syllables. "Ky-yul-lah."

Kyle shook his head. "If I freeze to death, I won't come back."

"I'd never let you freeze to death," Kenny assured him, drawing an "x" over his chest. "I'd cross my heart if I had one."

"I'm staying right here," Kyle insisted, sipping his hot drink.

"Fine then," Kenny replied, groaning as he climbed to his feet. "I guess I'll have to go to you."

Kenny sauntered toward the tree and swung himself onto Kyle's branch with surprising ease.

"So," the blond said, scooting close to Kyle for warmth. "How come you're not hanging out with Stan today?"

"What, I can't hang out with other friends?"

"I didn't say that. It's just that you _usually_ hang out with Stan on Saturdays."

"And you usually hang out with Cartman on Saturdays," Kyle pointed out.

"Cartman and Wendy are still cleaning his basement," Kenny replied. "I thought I'd let them be alone."

"Why are you so concerned with Cartman and Wendy having alone time lately?"

Kenny shrugged. "Because he likes her."

Kyle laughed. "Wendy? Cartman…has a crush…on Wendy?"

"Fat bastards can like girls too, you know."

"I know, but…Wendy? I thought he hated her. Anyways, she likes Stan."

"Exactly," Kenny replied. "Hence the alone time."

"You think spending time alone in a messy basement with Cartman is gonna make Wendy fall in love with him or something?"

"Probably not," Kenny admitted. "But it's worth a shot. Cartman deserves as much of a chance as anyone, right?"

"Cartman deserves a swift kick in the nuts," Kyle retorted.

Kenny chuckled lightly and tugged lightly on Kyle's blanket. Kyle took the hint, and wrapped the yellow fleece around the two of them, turning his head away slightly to hide his crimson cheeks.

"Don't tell Cartman I told you," Kenny said after a while.

"I won't."

"And don't tell Wendy either."

"Sure."

"I'm serious, Kyle. I know you two are all buddy-buddy, but Cartman would never forgive me if she found out."

"Why'd you tell me then?"

Kenny chuckled. "You know me and secrets…"

Yes, Kyle knew. Which was why he kept _certain_ things about himself from Kenny.

"Besides," Kenny went on. "I know you won't tell."

Kyle bumped his shoulder against Kenny's playfully. "And what if I do?"

Kenny turned to Kyle, locking eyes with the redhead, and Kyle nearly shivered from the gravity of his stare. "I'll be really, really mad at you."

Well, Kyle certainly couldn't have that. He nodded at the blond. "I won't tell. Cross my heart." Because unfortunately, unlike Kenny, he had one.

* * *

"It's fucking freezing out here," Cartman complained.

"You don't _have_ to be out here," Wendy reminded him. "You could be in your nice warm bed right now. You're the one who insisted on walking me home."

"Well I couldn't let you get murdered by hobos or whatever. I might miss your bitching."

Wendy rolled her eyes. "I guess chivalry's not dead after all."

"A 'thank you' would suffice, Wendy."

"I didn't ask you to do this."

"You're one ungrateful bitch, you know that?"

"I'm sorry. Let me try again." Wendy cleared her throat. "Thank you, Eric, for walking me home, because I'm a female and therefore unable to get there on my own."

"Fine. That's fine."

Cartman stopped walking and crossed his arms, and it took a few more steps before Wendy realized he was no longer by her side. She turned around. What the fuck was his problem? She _wanted_ him to walk her home. She was only arguing with him to be difficult. He should have known that.

"Cartman?"

"Go on. Go home. What do I care if you get murdered by cannibalistic hobos?"

"Oh, the hobos are cannibals now?"

"This is why I don't do nice things for people."

Wendy snorted. "You don't do nice things for people because it takes _effort_. Now stop being a big baby and walk me home."

"Walk yourself home," Cartman replied, turning around and heading back toward his house.

Wendy sighed and knelt to the ground. There was only one way to deal with the fatass when he got like this. She gathered up some snow in her mittens and packed it into a tight ball. Then, standing up, she hurled it directly at the back of Cartman's head.

"Hey!" Cartman cried, spinning around. "Did you just throw a snowball at me?"

Wendy hid her wet mittens behind her back and innocently rolled her eyes skyward. "Maaaybe."

"You're gonna pay for that, Testaburger."

"Oh yeah? What are you gonna do, fatass?"

Cartman began walking toward her purposefully. "I'm not fat, goddamnit. I'm big-boned."

Wendy shrugged. "Fat. Big-boned. It doesn't matter what you call it, you're still too big and clumsy to catch me." And turning on her heels, Wendy darted in the direction of her house.

She heard Cartman's footsteps pounding against the snowy sidewalk behind her, along with heavy panting and grunts of, "Skinny bitch," and, "Fucking ho." She laughed, because deep down, she knew he didn't mean any of these insults, and more importantly, she knew he'd forgotten why she'd pissed him off just minutes before.

"Gotta be faster than that, Cartman!" she shouted over her shoulder, turning the corner at the end of the block.

She slowed down when she heard Cartman's footsteps growing further away, because the idea was only to outrun him, not lose him completely. Besides, she was quickly becoming tired herself, and she could already see her house.

She'd nearly reached her driveway when she came to a complete stop, planting her palms on her knees as she crouched over, wheezing for air. When she'd finally caught her breath, she turned around to shout something lame and unoriginal at Cartman like that perhaps he'd have been more motivated to catch her if she'd been holding up a bag of Cheesy Poofs, but before any words could leave her mouth, she felt a slick patch of ice beneath her betray her footing, and she gasped as she landed hard on her back, crushing what had probably been some kid's attempt at a snowman.

She heard Cartman chuckle as he collapsed onto the ground beside her. "Who's…the clumsy one…now?" he panted.

"I'm not clumsy. The ground is slippery."

"You should have seen yourself when you fell down. Funniest. Shit. Ever."

"Shut up, Eric. At least I can run two blocks without practically passing out."

Cartman rolled onto his side to face Wendy, no longer complaining about the cold, even though the wet snow had already soaked through his jacket to his T-shirt.

"Wendy, don't call me that."

"What? Eric? But it's your name."

"But it doesn't feel right."

"You prefer to be called by your last name?"

By this time, Wendy was also lying on her side, facing Cartman.

"I'd even prefer 'fatass' over 'Eric'."

"Why?"

Cartman sighed. "Because you only call me 'Eric' when you're making fun of me. I don't want you to use my name to make fun of me. Just call me 'Cartman', okay?"

She could tell he was being serious, so she simply replied, "Okay."

He didn't say anything; just lay there staring at her with such intensity, she forgot that she was pressed against a mound of snow and likely to freeze to death if she didn't get inside soon. She grew uncomfortable under his stare, and forced herself to speak again.

"On one condition. You have to call me 'Her Lusciousness'."

Cartman's face broke into a grin. "Well, Your Lusciousness, I have something for you."

"Oh? And what would that be, Cartman?"

Cartman leaned in close to her, and she sucked in a staggered gasp. What the hell was he doing? He was so close to her, his eyes had merged into one, and she could feel his hot breath against her cheek. He wasn't about to… He couldn't be…

"C-Cartman?" she breathed.

"Wendy," he replied, smashing a soggy snowball against her neck.

Wendy let out a shriek as she wiped the snow from her skin. "Cartman!"

He laughed, jumping to his feet. "I told you I'd get you back, Your Lusciousness. You may be able to outrun me, but your female mind is no match for my superior brainpower."

"Yeah, you're so freaking clever."

"Well?"

"Well what?" Wendy asked, attempting to push herself off of the mound of snow.

"Aren't you gonna thank me for walking you home?"

"Fuck you, Cartman. Come on, help me up."

"I'd rather watch you struggle."

Wendy sighed. She managed to lift herself up with little trouble, but before she could stand completely, her foot hit the patch of ice again and she found herself falling back to the ground. Cartman broke into another fit of laughter.

"Dammit," Wendy muttered.

"Oh man…that was classic."

"Cartman, you're such a jackass."

"And you're a clumsy bitch."

"_What the hell is going on here_?"

The third voice was coming from somewhere beyond Wendy's line of vision, but she recognized it immediately as Stan's. The annoyed look on Cartman's face that had lately been reserved for Stan confirmed it.

"What are you doing here?" the bulky boy growled.

""Did you push her down?" Stan cried, rushing to Wendy's side and offering her a hand. She accepted it and let him lift her from the snowy sidewalk.

"He didn't push me," she assured him, brushing off her jeans. "I slipped."

"Yeah, douchebag. I'm not that big of an asshole. Jesus."

"Well, are you okay?" Stan asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks."

"What are you doing here?" Cartman asked again.

"Kyle went AWOL and Bebe is helping Clyde with his homework since he can't use his right hand, so I thought I'd hang with Wendy for a while."

"Isn't that nice, Wendy? You're his third choice. Right after his super best butt buddy and his girlfriend."

"Shut up, Cartman."

"Or were there others you tried too? The paperboy was unavailable? Couldn't get a hold of Butters or…"

"Thanks for walking me home, Cartman," Wendy interrupted, shooting him her best "You're dismissed" glare and clutching Stan's hand.

Cartman grunted. "Screw you guys," he muttered, turning around and stalking off toward his own home.

"What's his damage?" Stan asked, watching Cartman walk away.

"Who knows?" Wendy replied, dragging him toward her house. "Let's go inside. It's fucking freezing out here."

* * *

**Don't forget to review! Pretty please!**

**I have nothing further to say, so I'll leave you with some Cartman/Stan dialogue:**

**"Yeah, God, I wish Kenny was still alive. He'd put balls on his chin. He was such an awesome friend."**  
**"Well, come on guys. If Butters won't even put balls on his chin for us, I guess we know where we stand."**

**Thanks for reading!**

**Janine**


	5. Oh My God, They Killed Kenny!

**I'm really sorry about the long wait. I spent the last two months writing a story for my creative writing class, and after I finished it, I had a lot of trouble getting my mind out of that story and back into this one. I kind of hate this chapter. Basically, I'm only posting it now so it's out of the way and I get to the crazy shit I have planned. I don't feel like anything in this chapter is crucial to the story, but I spent so much time leading up to Craig's birthday that I couldn't just skip over it. So, I wrote half of this chapter two months ago and the rest of it today, and I haven't read it in its entirety, so I don't know if it flows at all. And Craig and Bebe have totally taken over this chapter, but I promise after this it will go back to being about Wendy and Cartman.**

**Oh, and I wrote the stuff about Kenny before the Mysterion episodes aired, so, yeah, Kenny's friends know about his dying.**

**Jack the Obsessive Maniac suggested that I include adults in this fic, so I have. Thanks for the suggestion, because, honestly, I didn't even realize I'd set the story in one of those creepy, adult-less universes until you pointed it out. And I do plan on having Ike make an appearance later in the story as well, but I don't know about Butters. I love Butters, but I'm nervous about trying to write him as a teenager, because I don't want to ruin everything I love about him.**

**I don't own South Park. Obviously.**

**

* * *

**

**Beside Me in the Morning**

**Chapter 4: Oh My God, They Killed Kenny!**

When Monday morning rolled around, Bebe was apprehensive in approaching Craig at their usual spot on the hallway floor. It didn't help that Clyde was gone that day, on his way to Denver to have surgery on his injured wrist. It meant she would have to face Craig alone. She took a deep breath as she walked toward him, holding a blue Tupperware carton in front of her like a peace offering. "Hey," she greeted, taking a seat on the floor beside him. "You still mad at me?"

"Depends," Craig replied, eyeing the Tupperware. "Did you bring me a birthday muffin?"

Bebe beamed, pulling the lid off of the carton. "Two, actually." She held the muffins out to him. "Go ahead. They're pumpkin."

Craig snatched up one of the pastries and sank his teeth into the top. "Mm," he moaned. "You are forgiven."

"Good. Because I got up extra early this morning to make these for you."

Craig smirked, taking another bite. "I can't stay mad at you, Bebe. You know how much I love your muffin."

"Craig!"

"It's so soft and moist," he explained around a mouthful of crumbs. "And it just feels so good in my mouth."

Bebe smacked him hard on the shoulder. "You pervert."

"What?" Craig replied innocently. "I'm just complementing you on your incredible baking skills. God, Bee, get your mind out of the gutter."

Bebe rolled her eyes. "Anyways, happy birthday."

"I've had happier birthdays."

"Craig…"

"I know, I know. Not gonna dredge it up again."

She rested a hand on his knee. "I'm sorry we fought," she offered sincerely.

He laid his hand on top of hers. "Me too."

That was how their apologies went. They were always sorry that they fought, never sorry for whatever they fought _about_. They were both too proud to ever admit to the other that they were wrong, so "I'm sorry we fought," was the best they could do. This never worked on Clyde. In most situations, he was unexcitingly agreeable, but he was emotional enough that he never accepted an apology unless the person who'd wronged him knew exactly what they were apologizing for. With each other, though, Bebe and Craig felt it was best to just forget a fight ever occurred, which was probably the reason their arguments were so frequent. It was hard to fix the flaws in their friendship that they were both too stubborn to ever address. But as fucked up as their relationship could be at times, they were still friends. Best friends, along with Clyde, of course.

But when Stan turned the corner in the hallway that morning looking for his girlfriend, what he saw did not look to him like friendship.

"What is this?" he demanded, approaching the two friends.

"It's a birthday muffin," Craig replied, although Stan was fairly positive that the other boy knew that he didn't give two shits about the breakfast pastry in his left hand, but was focusing rather on Craig's right hand, which was still encompassing Bebe's over his knee.

"Aren't you gonna wish Craig a happy birthday?" Bebe asked, not seeming to notice the jealousy in her boyfriend's eyes.

"Happy birthday, Craig," Stan muttered through gritted teeth.

Craig sent Stan an uncharacteristic grin, no doubt just to get under his skin. "Thanks, Stanley. I appreciate it. Would you like a taste of Bebe's delicious muffin? I get one every year on my birthday."

"Craig!" Bebe scolded. "Today being your birthday doesn't give you the right to be a douche."

"I'm a douche every day," Craig replied.

Bebe broke into a grin and looked up at Stan. "That's true. You gotta give him that."

Stan rolled his eyes. Eyeing Craig warily, he reached out a hand toward his girlfriend. "Walk to class with me?"

She accepted his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet, and Stan sent Craig a triumphant grin, pleased to see that the other boy seemed thoroughly put-out. Craig flipped him off.

* * *

"Kyle Broflovski, are you wearing new pants?"

"Um, no, I don't think so."

Wendy crossed her arms. "Don't lie to me, Jew. You've never worn skinny jeans before."

Kyle shrugged. "They might be new. So what?"

"Kyle, you can't turn a straight guy gay, no matter how tight your pants are."

Kyle blushed. "I'm not trying to impress anybody. They're just jeans, Wendy. God."

"Fine. Whatever. Turn around. Let's see it."

"See what?"

"Your ass, Kyle. What else?"

Kyle rolled his eyes, but turned around anyways, allowing Wendy to inspect his rear end.

"Mm," she murmured. "Yep, Kenny was right. You wear those jeans well."

"Um…thanks."

"I think I need to touch it."

"Wha…?"

Before Kyle could react, he felt Wendy's slender hand squeeze playfully around his left cheek. With a surprised yelp, he spun around, just in time to see Kenny and Cartman walking down the hallway behind Wendy, quickly approaching the two of them.

"Fucking Christ!" Kenny cried.

"That's sacrilegious, Kenny," Cartman scolded as he sidled up to Wendy. "You shouldn't talk about fucking Christ. Especially in front of the Jewfag. You'll give him ideas."

"Fuck you, Cartman," Kyle muttered.

"Wends, did you just grope Kyle's ass?"

"That I did, Kenny."

Cartman scowled. "I thought you liked Stan, ho. Why can't you keep your hands off the Jew?"

"I _do_ like Stan," Wendy assured him. "But seriously, look at Kyle's ass in these jeans and try not to touch it. I dare you."

"Actually," Kyle spoke up quickly, "I'd appreciate it if everyone just left my ass alone, thanks."

"But Kyle," Kenny whined, a playful grin spread across his face. "Wendy got to feel it. Why can't I?"

"That's not funny," Kyle and Cartman said in unison, glaring at one another immediately afterwards. Wendy seemed to disagree, however, because she was having herself a good laugh.

"Shut up, Wendy," Kyle muttered, crossing his arms.

"You do look pretty kickin' in those jeans, Kyle. They new?"

"Kenny, you fag."

"Cartman!" Wendy cried, sending Kyle an apologetic look. Kyle shrugged. It did no good to be bothered every time the fatass made a homophobic comment. In fact, Kenny's statement was stirring up more inside of him than Cartman's. In hindsight, perhaps the new jeans were a bad idea.

"I'm not gay, Cartman. I'm merely making an observation."

"A _gay_ observation."

Kenny rolled his eyes. "Anyways. Kyle," he said. "Me and Cartman are gonna shoot hoops after school. You and Stan should…"

"Kenny," Cartman cut him off. "Don't invite the fags."

Wendy crossed her arms. "_Eric_."

Cartman glared at her.

"Ignore Cartman," Kenny said, sidling up to Kyle and throwing an arm around his shoulder. "You guys should come."

"I'm sure they will," Cartman replied. "I just don't want to be there when they do. And I certainly don't want it all over my new basketball."

Kyle wrinkled his nose. "Gross, Cartman."

* * *

"Does it still hurt?" Craig asked, holding his phone with his shoulder as he flipped through the TV channels.

"A little," came Clyde's reply. "But they've got me on some killer pain meds."

"How long do you have to wear the cast?"

"Two weeks. You can sign it tomorrow. But my mom says I have to throw it away after they take it off because it'll smell like rancid milk."

"Well that's…a shame…I guess."

"Hey, I'm really sorry I couldn't be there for your birthday."

Craig sighed. "For the last time, Clyde, it's okay. You couldn't help it."

"Well, I meant that I'm sorry you have to spend it alone."

"Don't apologize for her," Craig snapped, muting the hollering rednecks on his TV.

"I'm not apologizing for Bebe," Clyde responded. "I'm just trying to be a friend. That's my job in this group, isn't it? To act like a friend when you and Bebe can't?"

"We're _all_ friends, Clyde."

"I know that. I'm just saying I'm the only one who acts like it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm not mad about it or anything," Clyde assured him. "It's not your fault you've got so much pent-up sexual frustration that it comes out as anger."

"You're a dick, man."

"I am not. I'm telling the truth."

Craig sighed. "I know, dude. You have a fucking heart of gold. It just irritates me when you're right about something."

"Hey, that happens more often than you think."

Craig grunted. "Whatever. You're still a fucking dumbass."

"You're an asshole, Craig. You see, this is why girls like Bebe prefer guys like Stan over guys like you. Because guys like Stan aren't complete douche bag assholes."

"Stan is too an asshole. He's just better at hiding it than I am. All guys are assholes, dude."

"I'm not an asshole."

"Yeah, well you're the exception, Clyde. But that's only because you're a fairy."

"I am not!"

"Did I say fairy? I meant pussy."

"Craig!"

"What? You broke your arm _fishing_."

"Well _you_ keep a diary."

"It's not a diary!" Craig shot back. "It's just a notebook."

"A notebook where you record your most personal thoughts and write emo poetry and doodle little rainbows," Clyde retorted.

"I do not doodle rainbows in my…notebook."

"Right. And you didn't cry when Bebe dumped you either."

"Dude, you _are_ an asshole."

"Yeah, I don't know what's gotten into me. I think it's the meds."

* * *

Stan knocked cautiously on the McCormicks' front door. Kyle stood behind him, their skinny blond friend draped limply over his shoulder.

There was a loud crash and some shouting from inside before the door swung open to reveal an annoyed Carol McCormick, holding her daughter Karen by the collar. She sighed upon seeing the boys at her door.

"Kenny's not here," she informed him tiredly. "He's…"

"Kyle's got him," Karen said, tugging on her mother's sleeve.

Carol's eyes fell on the body of her son hanging over Kyle's shoulder. She groaned.

"Stuart!" she shouted, turning around. "It happened again!"

"Just throw it in the backyard!" came her husband's reply. "I'll take care of it later!"

"Don't call him 'it', goddamn it! He's your son!" Carol bellowed back.

Stan swiveled his head around to send Kyle a troubled glance. Kyle responded by grabbing Stan's shoulder with his free hand.

"We'll just take him out back for you," he offered, tugging Stan with him away from the door.

They rounded the house to the backyard, which was a decent size, as backyards go, but filled with old junk. A broken washing machine. An old set of golf clubs. A rusty red wagon. A torn-up mattress. Kyle grimaced. He hated to think that Kenny—even a temporarily deceased Kenny—belonged with all the other shit the McCormicks had thrown out.

"Maybe we should bury him," he suggested, lowering the body to the ground.

"I guess so," Stan agreed. "We'll need a shovel. You see one around here?"

Kyle shook his head, brushing away a lock of hair matted down to Kenny's forehead by sticky, deep red blood.

"Kyle, what are you doing?"

"N-nothing," he murmured. "I'll…go inside and…get a shovel."

Kyle trudged toward the McCormicks' back door, ignoring Stan's puzzled stare. He pushed through the door into the kitchen, hoping to find Kenny's mom inside. Instead, he found Kenny's sister, perched on the stained countertop and attempting to scrape out the remains of a very empty jar of peanut butter. She glanced up at him.

"Oh, hey Kyle. What's up?"

"I just came in to find a shovel," Kyle explained.

Karen set her peanut butter jar aside and stared at him curiously. "What for?"

"For Kenny."

"My dad usually just burns him."

"It doesn't feel right, just leaving him out there like that."

Karen shrugged, sliding off the countertop and grabbing Kyle's hand. "Whatever. I'll get you one."

She disappeared briefly down the hallway, emerging a few seconds later with a rusty shovel.

"You care about Kenny, huh?" she asked, offering the shovel to Kyle.

"I guess so," Kyle replied, taking it. "He's my friend."

Karen raised an eyebrow. "Uh huh."

"What?"

"Nothing. I'm just glad someone cares enough about my brother to do this."

"Right," Kyle murmured.

"How'd he die anyways?"

"We were playing basketball in Cartman's driveway. The garage door shut on him."

"Huh. That's a new one."

"Not really," Kyle responded. "It's happened before. Twice."

"Have you considered _not_ playing basketball on Cartman's driveway?"

"I guess that would be the logical thing to do."

Karen rolled her eyes. "Well…thanks, I guess. For helping him out."

"Hey, anything for Kenny," Kyle replied. Karen tilted her head to the side. "You know…because he's a friend. A really good friend."

"Whatever you say."

"Well, uh, Stan's waiting for me out there," Kyle said, backing up toward the door, "so I should get going."

"Right. See ya."

"Later," Kyle replied, spinning around and reaching for the doorknob.

"Kyle," Karen called after him. He paused to look back at her. "Kenny likes girls," she told him. "Straight as an arrow. There's nothing you can do."

Kyle clutched the shovel tighter in his left hand. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Sure, dude. Whatever you say."

* * *

"God, Wendy, I can't believe you still have all these," Bebe murmured, sifting through the pile of notes on her ex-best friend's bedroom floor.

Wendy scratched her neck awkwardly. "Yeah, I guess I just never threw them away."

"Well I'm glad you didn't," Bebe replied, unfolding one of the old letters. She giggled, skimming over the text. "This one's from seventh grade. 'OMG, Bee. Is it just me or has Kenny gotten really cute?' Jesus, I can't believe you liked _Kenny_. I can't believe you _went out_ with Kenny."

Wendy rolled her eyes. "Well, you know me. I only date guys who are completely wrong for me."

"I _told_ you," Bebe replied.

"Told me what?"

"Back in seventh grade. I told you not to go out with Kenny because he was a skeevy pervert."

Wendy crossed her arms, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "You did not. When did you tell me that?"

Bebe held up the note in her hands, reading aloud from it once again. "'Ew, Wends. Don't go out with Kenny. He's a skeevy pervert.'"

"It does not say that!" Wendy giggled, snatching the note away from Bebe. She peered down at the crumpled sheet of notebook paper. "Well, what do you know?"

"See? I always knew what was best for you."

Wendy rolled her eyes, sinking down so that she was lying on her stomach, head propped up on her hands. "Whatever. Your advice didn't always steer me in the right direction, you know."

"Oh yeah? When did I ever give you bad advice?"

Wendy rummaged through the pile of notes, smirking when she came across the pink sheet of paper she'd been searching for. "Aha. Science class. Eighth grade." She unfolded the note gingerly. "I wrote, 'Craig asked me out. What should I do?' and you wrote, 'You should totally go out with him. Craig is awesome. You would make a great couple.' You see? Terrible advice, because Craig and I were, like, the worst couple ever."

Bebe grimaced. "Okay, you got me there. But in my defense, I never thought you'd actually say yes to him. I never would have encouraged you to go out with him if I thought you were really gonna listen to me."

Wendy frowned. "Did you like Craig? Even back then?"

Bebe shrugged. "I don't know. I guess so."

"Then why'd you tell me to go out with him?"

"I guess...I thought if you liked him too, then I should let you have him. Because you were my best friend."

"So you were just being selfless?" Wendy asked skeptically.

"Bros before hoes, right? Or whatever the female equivalent of that saying is."

"So why'd you two break up?"

The blonde began gathering up the old notes and stuffing them back into Wendy's blue tissue box. "I don't know. Same reason you and Kyle broke up, I guess."

Wendy wrinkled her forehead. "Craig is gay?"

Bebe laughed. "No, Craig's not gay. I just meant we were better off as… Wait, what?"

Wendy slapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh my god," she blurted, her voice slightly muffled. "I wasn't even thinking…"

"Kyle is gay?"

Wendy moved her hands to her temples, mumbling to herself, "Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my _god_."

"_That's_ the real reason you two broke up? Because he's _gay_?"

"You can't tell anyone!" Wendy cried. "Kyle will never talk to me again. I'm supposed to be the only one that knows."

"I won't tell anyone," Bebe assured her. "You know I can keep a secret."

"That makes one of us," Wendy breathed, running a nervous hand through her long black hair.

"Wends, don't _worry_. My lips are sealed. I won't say anything. _Especially_ not to Kyle."

Wendy smile weakly. "Thanks."

The blonde smirked playfully. "So…you really dated a gay guy?"

"Bebe, it's not funny!"

"No, you're right," Bebe replied, forcing a straight face. "It's not funny at all. Except it kinda is."

"Bebe!"

"I see what you meant now about only dating guys that are wrong for you. I mean, Kenny _and_ a gay guy?"

"Hey, I _liked_ Kyle," Wendy shot back, crossing her arms. "At least I don't go out with guys I don't even like."

The grin fell from Bebe's pretty face. "I _do_ like Stan!"

Wendy snorted.

"I do!" Bebe cried.

"Everyone can tell you still like Craig," Wendy replied. "Even Stan knows. And don't give me that 'We're better off as friends' bullshit, because it's totally obvious you're only with Stan to make Craig jealous."

"What?"

Wendy stood up, marching over to her desk and taking a seat in the chair, facing away from Bebe.

"For your information," Bebe said calmly, rising to her feet as well, "if I liked Craig, I could get him without using another guy to make him jealous. And I'd be spending his birthday playing pool with him instead of reading our old notes on your bedroom floor."

Wendy blinked rapidly, swiveling the chair to face Bebe. "It's Craig's birthday?"

Bebe placed her hands on her hips. "For god sake, Wendy, you went out with him. You should know when his birthday is."

"Bebe, why the hell are you hanging out with me on Craig's birthday?"

"Because I wanted to hang out with you! Because I thought you wanted to be friends again! And you said that today was the only day that…"

"I only said that because Stan told me it had to be today!" Wendy cut her off.

Bebe gaped at her. "So Craig was right? You're only hanging out with me because Stan wanted you to?"

"Well it's not like we're best friends anymore," Wendy pointed out.

"Yeah, no kidding." Bebe crossed her arms. "Wait a minute. Stan said it had to be today?"

"Yeah."

"But he knew it was Craig's birthday," Bebe replied. "Why would he want you to…?"

Wendy gasped as Bebe's voice trailed off. The black-haired girl shot out of her chair. "That sneaky bastard!"

"Oh, he's dead," Bebe murmured, wringing her hands. "I am so gonna castrate that boy."

"No, Bebe," Wendy protested. "You go to Craig's, where you should have been to begin with. Let me deal with Stan."

* * *

The bowl of popcorn at Craig's side went untouched as he stared blankly at the telenovela playing in front of him. He didn't know a word of Spanish, but from what he could gather, Stella was engaged to Roberto, but pregnant with Esteban's baby, and Roberto's mother was pretty pissed off about it.

"This shit'll rot your brain," Craig's mother informed him, strolling in from the kitchen.

Craig shrugged. "Not such a huge loss."

Mrs. Tucker walked up behind the couch to plant a kiss on the top of her son's head. "Happy birthday, by the way."

"Thanks, Mom."

She slipped an envelope onto his lap. "From your dad and me."

"Cash," Craig said, not even bothering to open the envelope. "Just what I wanted."

"Where are you friends?" his mother asked, patting his hair affectionately. "Clyde and Bebe. Don't they usually spend your birthday with you?"

Craig shrugged. "They had shit to do."

"I'm sorry, honey."

"I'm not."

The doorbell rang behind him, but Craig ignored it in favor of Esteban's wife's loud Spanish rant. She'd found out about the affair, evidently. Craig turned up the volume as his mother left to answer the door.

"Esteban!" Craig cried in his best falsetto voice as the anorexic woman on the screen fell to her knees before her husband. "How could you cheat on me with that skank?"

He heard the door close and footsteps leading toward the couch, and he felt a figure hovering behind him, but he didn't care if he looked like an idiot. It was his fucking birthday, and if he wanted to watch over dramatic Spanish soap operas and dub in his own dialogue, well, that was his prerogative.

"I cook for you! I raise your children! I've always been good to you, Esteban! And how do you repay me? By sleeping with that cheap whore, Stella!" he continued in his falsetto voice. "And on my birthday, too!"

"But baby," replied a raspy voice from behind him. "I was thinking about you the whole time."

Craig jumped, startled by the voice, and spun around on the couch.

"Bebe!" he cried, still in his high-pitched voice. He cleared his throat, the tiniest flush appearing on his pale cheeks. "Bebe. What the hell are you doing here?"

"It's not Bebe," she replied in her raspy voice, swinging herself over the back of the couch to sit beside him. "It's Esteban. And I'm here to beg your forgiveness."

Craig grinned. Returning to his falsetto, he responded, "But how can I forgive you? You got that tramp pregnant, and now things can never be the same."

"What can I do to make it up to you? How can I prove that I don't give a fuck about Stella?"

"It's too late!" Craig shot back, as the woman on the TV began swinging her purse around the room, knocking vases and pictures off of the shelves. "You've already ruined everything! I'm filing for divorce and taking the children far away from you! I'm selling the house and the car and the burro!"

"Burro?" Bebe repeated, breaking character. "What the fuck, Craig? Just because it's in Spanish, these people have to own burros?"

Just as she spoke, the show cut to a farm setting, complete with a red barn and a donkey.

"Oh," Bebe mumbled, reaching over Craig's lap for a handful of popcorn.

"So," Craig said, snapping off the TV. "What brings you here?"

"You, of course."

"Well, obviously, but what about your girls' night with Wendy?"

Bebe sighed. "It turns out you were right about that."

"You mean the part where I said you two have grown apart or the part where I said she was only hanging out with you because Stan told her to?" Craig asked. "Or the part where I said someday you'd find out how much I mean to you?"

"You were correct on all accounts."

"And?" Craig prodded, slinging an arm around the girl's shoulder. "How much _do_ I mean to you?"

Bebe smiled, laying her head on Craig's shoulder. "You're my best friend," she answered.

"So…more than that cheap whore, Stella then?"

"Oh, god, a thousand times more than _her_."

* * *

Cartman dribbled his new basketball down his freshly-shoveled driveway, going for a left-handed layup. He banked the ball off the backboard of the hoop above his garage door. It hit the rim before toppling over the side and falling lazily to the ground, beside a dried puddle of Kenny's blood.

He sneered at the basketball, as it was the ball's fault he missed, before scooping it back up and going for another shot. He missed again.

"You suck at basketball," a female voice observed from the end of his driveway.

Cartman spun around, ignoring the ball as it rolled into a snow-covered bush.

"Wendy? The fuck are you doing here?"

"Looking for Stan. His mom said he was here."

"No. The guys left for Kenny's, like, an hour ago."

"Is that blood?" Wendy asked, nodding toward the stain on the driveway.

Cartman nodded. "Kahl shoved Kenny into my garage door as it was closing."

Wendy rolled her eyes. "I'm so sure."

"Okay, so we were playing ball and Kenny fell trying to block a shot. But Kahl was the one shooting, so it was still his fault."

"Yeah, well, isn't everything?"

"You know it. So, what's up? Aren't you supposed to be hanging out with Bebe tonight?"

"I was," Wendy responded, ambling up Cartman's driveway and retrieving his basketball from the bush. "But it turns out that was just a plan Stan cooked up to get Bebe and Craig to hate each other or something."

"And that surprises you why?"

"Well, I didn't think Stan had it in him, for one thing," Wendy replied, shooting the ball and watching it sail straight through the net. "And I certainly never thought he would _use_ me."

"And who put ideas into Stan's head about Craig and Bebe to begin with, I wonder?"

Wendy scoffed. "Don't try to pin this on _me_, Cartman."

"All I'm saying," Cartman continued, as Wendy stalked over toward the garage door to retrieve the basketball, "is that you reap what you sow."

"You're gonna lecture me on morals, Cartman? Really?"

"Just admit it, Wendy," Cartman replied with a smirk. "You've got a malicious streak in you, and now it's rubbing off on Stan."

Wendy glared. "I do not!"

"I didn't say it was a bad thing. Hell, it's one of the things I like about you."

"Shut up."

"Oh, you're a catty little bitch and you know it."

"I'm not _catty_. I'm _competitive_."

"Catty. Competitive. Call it what you want. Either way, you're still a bitch."

"Argh!" Wendy cried, pitching the basketball hard at Cartman's stomach. The fat boy just laughed, catching the ball with ease. "You drive me crazy," the girl muttered, falling back against his garage door with a pout.

Cartman dropped the basketball and stepped forward, inches away from Wendy, and a hint of fear flashed in her dark eyes as he towered over her. "No," he replied, grabbing her arms roughly, but not enough to hurt her, and pinning them against the garage door. "_You_ drive _me_ crazy."

* * *

**Poor Kenny. I'm a bastard.**

**God, this story needs a LOT more Cartman. And a lot less of everyone else. Seriously, with the exception of a few muffin-related jokes (yes, I'm immature), Cartman had all of my favorite lines in this chapter.**


	6. You Bastards!

**I have one week of classes before finals, and during that week I have two portfolios, one sculpture, and one paper due. And rather than working on any of those things, I'm uploading this chapter. So, as you can see, my priorities are in order. Seriously, though, I do need to focus on school, so I won't be working on this story again until after finals. So it'll be, like, two weeks probably.**

**Anyways, I feel like I'm always telling you how much I hate my own writing, so I've decided I'm not gonna do that. I'll let you decide whether it sucks or not. LOTS of Candy in this chapter. But very little Crebe and K2. Sorry, those of you who are reading this mostly for those pairings. But, yeah, this is a Candy story, so I'm not really all that sorry.**

**I don't own South Park.**

* * *

**Beside Me in the Morning**

**Chapter 5: You Bastards!**

"Wendy!" Bebe greeted her sleepy ex-friend, skidding to a halt in front of the other girl's locker.

"Bebe," Wendy replied, checking her reflection in the mirror inside her locker door. She was not surprised to find that she looked like shit. She certainly felt like it.

"Did you talk to Stan last night?"

"Shit, I forgot."

"Forgot?" Bebe echoed, a puzzled gaze on her pretty face. "How did you forget? You went to find him at the same time I left your house."

"Well, I went to his house," Wendy explained, locating a comb on the top shelf of her locker. "But his mom said he was at Cartman's. So I went there, but he'd left already. And then I got…distracted."

"Distracted?"

Wendy shuddered, dragging the comb hastily through her thick black hair. She'd been distracted, yes. By Cartman of all people. But the two had _not_ had a _moment_. She had _not_ momentarily forgotten where she was when Cartman pinned her to his garage door. She had _not_ seen a decidedly un-Cartman-like emotion in his eyes or heard something different as he uttered those five completely innocent words. And she certainly had not found it sexy. Not in the slightest. No, they had not had a _moment_, and as they retreated to Cartman's basement, bickering and carrying on as usual, Wendy did not struggle in convincing herself that it was not a _moment_. And when she woke up that morning on Cartman's basement couch, apparently having fallen asleep talking to him, her chest didn't flutter with affection for whoever had been so thoughtful to drape a blanket over her and remove her shoes, tucking her socks carefully inside.

"Whatever," Bebe said, shaking her head. "Let's just find him now. We can tell him off together."

"Tell who off?"

"Stan."

"Stan! Right. Yeah, we should tell that bastard off."

Bebe stared at her. "Wendy, are you all right?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You tell me."

Wendy scowled. "Are we gonna stand here talking about me, or are we gonna go find your boyfriend?"

"Right," Bebe agreed. "We should go…" she paused, glancing over Wendy's shoulder. "On second thought," she said, "he could find us."

"Ladies," a male voice greeted them.

Wendy spun around and rolled her eyes at the sight of Stan grinning down at them. So what if his smile made her weak at the knees? He had used her, and she was determined to stay mad at him. She'd just have to ignore that pounding in her chest.

"How'd it go last night?" he asked, sidling up to Bebe and slipping a hand around her waist. "What did you two do?"

"Well, _I_ helped Cartman clean out his basement," Wendy replied.

"And _I_ went to Craig's and played that new game I got him for his birthday," Bebe finished.

Stan frowned. "But didn't you two…"

"Figure out your sneaky little plan to keep me away from my best friend on his birthday? Yes. Yes we did."

Stan pulled away from his girlfriend. "I…um…"

"I think this is the part where you apologize," Wendy informed him.

"Apologize?" Stan repeated.

"Yeah. You know, say you're sorry."

"But…I'm not sorry."

Bebe crossed her arms. "Excuse me?"

"I'm not sorry," Stan repeated. "I don't like Craig, and I _really_ don't like Craig alone with my girlfriend, and I'm not going to apologize."

"Why would you want to keep me and Craig apart?"

"Because he's trying to get in your pants."

"He's my friend!"

"Your friend who's got a boner for you. Right, Wends?"

Wendy shrugged. "Well…yeah. But in Craig's defense, _everybody_ likes Bebe."

"That is not true," Bebe shot back. She turned back to Stan. "And even if he does like me, don't you trust me?"

"I don't trust Craig."

"Well, I'm pretty sure I can control myself around him, okay? If I wanted to be with Craig, I wouldn't be with you."

Stan sighed. "You're right. I'm sorry. I was just being insecure, I guess."

Bebe responded with a soft smile. "You're forgiven."

She stood on her toes to give her boyfriend a quick kiss—on the cheek, Wendy noted. She rolled her eyes. Bebe didn't like Stan. Anyone with two X chromosomes could see it. The two interacted the way Wendy did with Kyle, only without the genuine affection that she shared with her friend. Bebe and Craig had way more chemistry than Bebe did with Stan. Hell, Wendy and _Cartman_ had more chemistry than those two, although as soon as she thought it, she immediately dismissed the thought from her mind.

"So, you're just gonna forgive him?" she asked Bebe incredulously. "Just like that?"

"He apologized," Bebe pointed out. "Besides, it's not _that_ big a deal. It's not like anyone got hurt."

Stan nodded, taking the blonde's hand, and the couple sauntered happily down the hallway, leaving Wendy alone at her locker once again. She sighed, pushing the metal door closed. "No one but me," she murmured.

* * *

"Cartman!" Kyle shouted, flagging down the hefty boy as he made his way to his second period art class.

Cartman groaned. He could not deal with the Jew. Not after the morning he'd had.

He thought that things had gone relatively well with Wendy the previous night. She'd been pissed at Stan, which, needless to say, Cartman had been thrilled about. And then, in his driveway, they'd had a _moment_. He was sure of it. He was also sure that Wendy would deny it in a heartbeat, but still. And then, to top it off, she'd fallen asleep in his basement. On his shoulder. Sitting in the lamplight and listening to old records.

The morning, though… It wasn't the follow up he'd been hoping for. Her mother had called his house at five in the morning trying to find her, and after Wendy calmly explained to her parents that she'd simply fallen asleep on the couch, she passed the phone onto Cartman so her father could give him the third degree. Which, honestly, he'd always imagined would happen someday, except he thought he'd be _dating_ Mr. Testaburger's daughter first.

Wendy, as it turned out, was not a morning person. She was so cranky when she was tired, in fact, that it made her usual disposition seem positively chipper. It took about four cups of coffee to bring her up from Sheila-Broflovski-during-menopause bitch to her usual angry-mother-raccoon bitch. And she also hogged the bathroom getting ready.

And as if his morning hadn't been awful enough, he failed a poetry assignment in his first period English class, because apparently it should have been a given that he was not allowed to use the word "cunt" in the title.

So, no, Cartman did not want to stop to talk to Kyle in the hallway.

"Cartman!" Kyle called again, jogging up until he was walking in step with the bigger boy.

"What do you want?" Cartman growled, too tired to even waste an insult on the Jew.

"Have you seen Kenny?" Kyle asked. "Is he back yet?"

"Not that I know of."

"Oh," Kyle murmured, disappointment apparent in his eyes.

"What's wrong? Developed a boner for the hoodrat?"

Kyle scowled. "Don't worry, Cartman. I'm not trying to steal your boy toy."

Cartman snorted. "Please. Me and Kenny?"

"I just…need his help with a homework assignment," Kyle explained.

"_You_ need _Kenny's_ help with schoolwork?" Cartman asked skeptically. "And let me guess, afterwards, you're gonna give _him_ lessons on how to pick up chicks."

"It's music appreciation. And I need Kenny's help because he actually appreciates crappy music."

"And you appreciate Kenny's penis, so I guess you both have crappy taste."

"I'm not gay, Cartman!"

"Why don't you just admit you like to eat cock and save us all the drama, because waiting for you to come out of the closet is ridiculous."

"Fuck you, fatass!"

"Fuck Kenny, you Jew!" Cartman shot back.

"I don't want to fuck Kenny! You fuck Kenny! You're the one who hangs out with him all the time."

"Well _you've_ been spending a lot of time with him lately," Cartman pointed out. "Probably more time than I have. And besides, he told me he likes you."

Kyle's cheeks flushed. "He did?"

"No," Cartman replied. "But I had you hoping for a minute there."

"Fuck off, Cartman."

Cartman snickered. Maybe talking to Kyle had been good for his mood after all. Nothing made his day like seeing the Jew riled up, and accusing him of being gay for Kenny certainly did the trick. Although, he admitted—only to himself, of course—Kyle had gotten Wendy, and he probably never would. So his accusations were most likely false.

* * *

"Wendy!" Clyde called, stopping the girl as she made her way to her usual table in the crowded cafeteria. "Wanna sign my cast?"

Wendy glanced around Clyde's table. Craig sat beside him, brooding as usual, and Bebe and Stan sat across from the two boys, holding hands as Stan whispered sweet nothings into Bebe's ear, or something like that.

Wendy sighed. "Sure," she replied, squeezing in between Clyde and Craig and accepting the Sharpie from Clyde. She scrawled her name beneath Craig's before glancing up at Stan and Bebe.

"It's disgusting, right?" Craig whispered.

It took a minute for Wendy to realize he'd been talking to her. She looked up at him and nodded.

"I can't stand PDA," Craig went on. "It's disgusting."

Wendy nodded. "I remember," she whispered back.

Craig wrinkled his forehead. "Oh yeah, we went out, huh?"

Wendy rolled her eyes. "Sorry I wasn't more memorable."

"No offense."

"Whatever. It wasn't the best relationship of my life either."

"Bebe got wicked jealous, though," Craig whispered with a grin.

Wendy smiled back. "That's true."

"Bet she'd get jealous if we started going out again."

"Not Stan," Wendy replied, bitterly. "He'd be thrilled."

"What, you like him or something?"

"You like Bebe?"

"As if you don't know the answer to that question."

Wendy leaned in closer to Craig. "At least she likes you back," she whispered. "Trust me, deep down, she does. Stan only sees me as, like, a friend. All guys see me that way."

"Not Cartman," Craig pointed out.

"Gross, Craig. Besides, Cartman likes some girl from some other school."

"Or so he says."

"Shut up."

"What are you two whispering about?" Bebe's voice rang in Wendy's ears, coated with jealousy.

Wendy smirked, sitting up straight. "What are _you two_ whispering about," she countered.

"Nothing," Bebe shot back, stuffing an orange slice into her mouth.

"Well then," Wendy replied, standing up. "I'll just be going now. Nice talking to you, Craig." She patted his shoulder affectionately before letting her hand drift momentarily to his chest. "_Really nice_," she purred.

Bebe choked on her orange slice.

* * *

Kenny lost his virginity at the ripe old age of thirteen. Seventh grade had started out as a weird year for him. He wasn't used to people paying attention to him, and suddenly girls were noticing him. It was a little unreal, and like any teenage boy would, he let it go to his head. It was for this reason that Kenny snagged his first serious girlfriend, got dumped by his first serious girlfriend, and, in the aftermath of his breakup, tagged along with his older brother to his first high school party. It was there that he met her.

All Kenny knew about the girl was that her name was Amber, she was not a natural blonde, and she somehow believed him when he told her he was in high school. When she led him to an empty room, he told her that it was his first time, that he'd been waiting for the right person, someone who really got him. She'd been happy to take the lead.

Girls, Kenny decided, were easy.

Unable to keep it to himself, he told Cartman the next day. When Cartman didn't believe him, he told Kyle. When Kyle told him he was disgusting, he told Stan. Stan told him he was his hero, which had been the reaction he was looking for.

He lost his virginity before his older brother. When Kenny was in eighth grade, he caught Kevin sneaking his long-time girlfriend out of the house at six o'clock one morning. He'd smiled smugly and congratulated him. Kevin just smiled back and told Kenny that there was nothing like waking up next to the one you love. Kenny called him a pussy.

When he was in ninth grade, Kenny developed a crush on a girl named Mindy Gardner. He followed her around for weeks, passing her sweet little notes in algebra and holding her hair for her when she took a drink from the water fountain. When he finally asked her out, she turned him down. He didn't seem like a long-term relationship kind of guy, she'd explained. And besides, she liked Stan. That night, he slept with her best friend. When Stan asked if it was okay if he asked her out, Kenny told him to go for it, but not to expect the fucking prude to put out.

That year, Kevin announced his engagement to his high school sweetheart. Kenny didn't congratulate him.

Sometime during tenth grade, Kyle started getting close to Wendy. He asked Kenny one day if it would bother him if they went out. Kenny just laughed, and Kyle seemed a little troubled by this response. He seemed even more troubled when Kenny announced at their lunch table one day that he'd hooked up with two of the bridesmaids at his brother's wedding at the same time.

That was just life for Kenny. He hooked up with girls and occasionally died, and it happened so often that nobody really cared about either one. Nobody but Kyle, that is. Kenny didn't know why Kyle cared about him so much, but it was fucking annoying. And kind of sweet.

* * *

"She doesn't even like him. It's not fair that she has him when she doesn't even like him."

Cartman sighed. "Uh huh."

"I mean, seriously," Wendy went on, taping the last of the boxes shut and shoving it into the corner with the others. "She's never really gonna be his, so why doesn't he just fucking give up on her already?"

"Tell me about it," Cartman muttered, tying the final trash bag and tossing it aside. He guided Wendy back to the couch, and she sat down obediently.

"It just doesn't make sense. You know?"

"I know," Cartman replied, sitting next to her.

Wendy sensed that Cartman was tired of listening to her rant. She wasn't sure when she started caring what the hell Cartman thought, but she decided to change the subject.

"Anyways, enough about me," she said. "Tell me about this girl you like."

"Huh?"

"You know, the girl you told me about the other day. The one who doesn't know you like her."

Cartman scratched his neck awkwardly. "Well…she's…blonde."

"Yeah?" Wendy said, urging him to continue.

"And, um, she's tall. And she…lives in Denver."

"Does she have a name?"

"Um…yes."

Wendy waited for a moment, and when Cartman didn't continue, she nudged him lightly on the knee. "And are you gonna tell me what it is?"

"Oh!" Cartman cried, his cheeks turning red. "Well, it's…you know…Abby."

"Abby?"

"Yeah. Short for Abigail. Abigail…Turner…stein."

"Abigail Turnerstein?"

"Uh huh. But I just call her Abby. Or Gail. Sometimes."

"And what's she like?" Wendy asked.

"Oh, you know. She's pretty. She likes music and movies and…food."

"Well…shared interests. That's good," Wendy replied, unable to find anything else positive or encouraging to say. Honestly, if Cartman was any vaguer with his description, Wendy probably wouldn't believe this Abby Turnerstein was a real person.

"Oh yeah, she's…great. Let's not talk about her anymore."

"Um. Okay."

"The basement looks good, don't you think?"

Wendy glanced around. "It really does. We should totally hang out down here. It's way better than Stan's stupid tree house."

"Hell yeah, it is."

"Should we get those bags and boxes out of here?"

"Or we could save that for later and just sit here for a while."

Wendy smiled. "That works for me."

So they did. And when Cartman slung his arm around Wendy's shoulder as he described in detail Kenny's garage door accident, she didn't object. And when Wendy rested her head on Cartman's shoulder as she told him about the notes she passed with Bebe in junior high, he didn't complain. But they were _not_ having a _moment_.

* * *

"You're back," Kyle greeted Kenny, as he strode through the doors of South Park High on Wednesday morning.

"I'm back," Kenny agreed. "My sister says you, like, buried me. What's up with that?"

Kyle shrugged. "Dunno. Just seemed right, I guess."

"You know, when I'm dead, my body doesn't really care what happens to it."

"I know, but…I care."

"Sure dude."

"I picked up your assignments," Kyle told him. "Did your dad give them to you?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

"Did you do them?"

"Pff. No."

"Whatever," Kyle replied with a shrug. "Your GPA."

"Hey, I was dead. I think that's a reasonable excuse for not finishing a few…"

"Hey, Kenny!" Clyde interrupted him, as the two boys walked by Clyde and Craig sitting against their lockers.

Kenny stopped in his tracks, and Kyle stopped a few steps ahead of him.

"Hey, Clyde," Kenny responded, not sure why this kid was talking to him.

"You wanna sign my cast?" Clyde offered, holding out a black Sharpie.

Kenny shrugged, dropping to the floor beside Clyde and accepting the pen. "Sure, man. If it makes you feel like people actually like you."

"You're a dick," Craig said.

"Yes I am.

"Don't make him sign it, man," Craig told Clyde, nudging his friend on the shoulder.

"But…" Clyde pouted. "I want a lot of names on it."

"What'd I say?" Kenny asked with a chuckle, signing his name with a flourish.

Craig rolled his eyes. "Pathetic, dude."

"So where's Bebe?" Kenny asked, handing Clyde back his pen.

"Probably walking to class with her douche bag boyfriend."

"Stan's not a douche bag," Kyle defended his best friend.

"Yeah," Kenny agreed. "If anything, you're the douche bag. You're the one trying to steal his girlfriend."

Craig snorted.

"Not that I can blame you," Kenny went on. "I mean, she's hot. If Stan wasn't my friend, hell, I'd do her."

"Shut the fuck up," Craig snapped, scowling.

"Yeah, Kenny," Kyle agreed. "Seriously."

Kenny smirked up at his friend. "Come on, Kyle. Like you wouldn't if you had the chance?"

"Actually, no. I wouldn't."

"You guys," Clyde mumbled, nursing his injured arm. "Don't talk about Bebe that way."

"Seriously," Craig agreed.

"I apologize for Kenny," Kyle said, helping his friend back to his feet. "He's an asshat. You get used to it after a while."

"I can sympathize with that," Clyde muttered, earning a punch in the shoulder from Craig. "Ow!"

"As for Stan," Kyle went on. "He's just paranoid. He thinks Craig is out to steal Bebe from him."

"That's because I am," Craig replied coolly.

* * *

"Let me walk you home," Stan insisted, taking his girlfriend's hand as they walked through the double doors of South Park High.

Bebe shrugged. "Sure. I guess. I mean, it's kind of out of your way, but…"

"Who cares? I don't mind."

"Well, that's sweet," Bebe replied with a small grin.

"You're worth it," Stan replied, leading Bebe down the sidewalk.

Bebe's smile faltered. Stan _was_ a sweet guy. Not perfect, obviously, but sweet. It didn't seem right to use him the way she was. How had things gotten this far? She'd only wanted to reconnect with an old friend, and as wrong as it was, Stan seemed like the means to do that. But, if anything, Wendy hated her even more, and as for Stan… Well, Stan was just in too deep.

She had to end this.

"Stan?" she said, as they passed an old playground. "We…need to talk."

Stan glanced over at her nervously. "We do?"

She nodded.

"About what?"

"Stan, what…? Where are we going?"

Stan looked around. "Um…to your house?"

"I meant, where are we going in our relationship?"

"Oh. Well, I don't know. Are we supposed to be going somewhere?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, isn't that the point of a relationship?"

"We're in high school," Stan pointed out. "It's not like I think about marrying you or anything like that. Shit, that was the wrong thing to say, wasn't it?"

Bebe sighed. "No, it… It was the right thing to say, actually."

Stan stopped in his tracks, drawing Bebe to a halt as well. "Are you breaking up with me?"

She bit her lip. "Stan…"

"Oh, god. You are breaking up with me. This is about Craig, isn't it? God, I knew it. I should have seen this coming sooner. You two are, like, best friends, so it was bound to happen sooner or later. Just like Kyle and Wendy…"

"Stan!" Bebe cut him off. "Look, it's not about Craig, okay?"

"So…it's just me?"

"It's not…"

"Is it because you think I'm not serious about us? Because I am. I swear to God, I am."

"No, it isn't…"

"I'm not just going out with you so I can get in your pants."

"I didn't think you…"

"Bebe, I love you."

Bebe's breath hitched. "That's…" She swallowed hard. "…all I needed to hear."

Both teens jumped at the sudden sound of crunching snow beyond the old wooden fence that separated the sidewalk from the old playground. Bebe thought she heard the sound of fleeing footsteps, but she could barely make out the retreating figure through the slats on the wood.

"What was that?" Stan cried.

"I don't know," Bebe responded, turning back to her boyfriend.

He shook his head. "Never mind." He slipped his arm around her waist hesitantly. "So, we're good? You're not breaking up with me?"

She sighed. "No."

Not today.

Maybe she'd work up the courage to break it off tomorrow.

* * *

"Kenny, come over," Cartman persisted. "My basement is finished and I'm sitting in it alone."

"Ask Wendy to hang out with you," came Kenny's reply from Cartman's cell phone.

"I think she's avoiding me," Cartman responded. "I didn't see her all day."

"Well, I'm busy right now. I'm at Kyle's house."

"Keeenny!" Cartman whined into the receiver. "You're always hanging out with Kahl lately. Why do you two have to be so fucking gay for each other?"

"I missed school yesterday and he's helping me get caught up. You sick fuck."

"Well, _I_ could help you get caught up."

"Yeah, if you were the kind of friend who helps people. And if you weren't a retard."

"Hey!"

"Cartman, I have a history test tomorrow. I've gotta go."

"Fine. Study for your damn history test. I'll just have to break in this pool table myself."

"Cartman, that pool table's, like, fifty years old. It's way past broken in."

"_You're_ way past broken in."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"I don't know. I'm just pissed at you right now."

Kenny sighed. "I'm hanging up now, fatass."

Cartman snapped his phone shut and tossed it on the couch beside him. He glanced around the basement. All of the bags and boxes had been cleared out, leaving behind only the couch, the record player, the pool table, and a bookshelf of old movies. He'd hauled his TV down the stairs, along with a VCR and his X-box. He'd also snuck his old Clyde Frog doll from a box of old toys that Wendy had marked "Goodwill" and perched him atop the bookshelf. Kenny had been right, when he said that this would be a cool place to hang out. The only problem was, it was all fixed up, and no one was there hanging out with him.

"My life sucks," Cartman announced to nobody.

No sooner had the words left his mouth, than the basement door flew open, and a distraught Wendy Testaburger burst in.

"Wendy?" Cartman cried, jumping to his feet. "What the fuck, bitch? Don't you know how to…" It was only then that he noticed the tears in her eyes. "Wendy? Are you okay?"

She shook her head, rushing forward and collapsing against his thick chest. His arms wrapped around her thin frame on their own accord.

"What happened?" he asked softly.

"He loves her," she murmured against his chest.

"He loves… Huh?"

"I was walking home…" Wendy explained. "…and I cut through that old playground by the school…and I heard voices…and it was Stan and Bebe, so I…stopped to listen…behind the fence."

"Uh huh?" Cartman responded, rubbing her back gently.

"And he told her he…he said…"

"Wendy," Cartman cut her off, holding her tighter. "Just forget about it, okay?"

Wendy hiccupped. "But I can't…"

"You're too good for him anyway, Wends."

"Then why does he love her and not me?"

"Because he's an idiot. Stan's always been an idiot, Wendy."

"She doesn't even like him," Wendy murmured into his shirt. "Why do we have to love people who don't like us back?"

Cartman sighed, stroking her hair tenderly. "I ask myself that question every day."

Wendy pulled away from his shirt to meet his eyes. "Oh, Eric. I'm sorry. I was just thinking about myself. I forgot about your…Abby Turnerfield girl."

"Turnerstein," he corrected automatically, although he wasn't sure why he was correcting her on the made-up name of a girl who didn't actually exist.

"I just thought…I don't know…that Stan would realize that Bebe didn't feel the same way about him. That he'd…"

"That he'd finally see who was really there for him?" Cartman filled in.

Wendy just stared up at him, salty tears dried on her pink cheeks.

"Yeah, I know the feeling," he whispered.

"You do, don't you?" she replied faintly.

And the next thing he knew, Wendy was shoving him back against the old couch, crushing her lips against his. He kissed back instinctively, burying his plump fingers in her hair. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was reminding himself that this was wrong. That it wasn't actually him she was thinking about. But the more dominant part of his brain was telling him to just go with it. So when he felt her tongue begging desperately for entrance into his mouth, he hastily complied. And when he felt her hands tugging eagerly at the hem of his shirt, he helped her to lift it over his head, breaking their kiss only momentarily to do so. When he felt her reaching for his belt, he fumbled awkwardly with the tiny buttons on her blouse.

Her hands abandoned the button of his jeans to reach into the front pocket of his backpack, which sat on the floor beside the couch. She located whatever she had been looking for, and his eyes fluttered open in surprise when he felt the small foil package she'd placed in his hand.

He pulled back slightly, staring nervously into her brown eyes. "Are…" He caught his breath. "Are you sure?"

She nodded confidently before pulling him back into their lip lock, tugging impatiently at his zipper.

* * *

**Ahem. Yeah.**

**So, clearly, I love to leave you with cliffhangers when it comes to Candy. (I'm such a teeeease!)**

**And, yeah, I did the background story thing again, with Kenny this time. Honestly, when I started this story, I only meant to do that with Wendy in the prologue. But then I ended up doing Bebe, and then Kyle, and now Kenny. I guess I just love to write that way. Anyways, J. Coffison commented on an earlier chapter that Kenny's disappointment over never falling in love seemed out of character. (BTW, if you have criticisms, please tell me! Honestly, I want to know your opinion, good or bad.) J. Coffison, if you're reading this, did this chapter change your mind at all?**

**Oh, and is everyone still pissed at Stan? The Craig/Bebe romance has been more well-received than I was expecting, and as a result, people have been hating on Stan. But I think he's done being a dick. Oh, and Craig's a major dick in this chapter. And Bebe's kiiiiinda a bitch. And Kenny's always a jackass. And Kyle will surely do something spiteful later on. And Cartman and Wendy are...Cartman and Wendy. So, in other words, by the end of this story, you'll probably hate everyone but Clyde at some point.**

**Please review!**

**Cut3'n'Psych0 said she (or he, but I think she's a she) missed the quotes in my A/Ns, so I'll leave you with some Cartman/Stan/Clyde dialogue.**

**Cartman: They can't do that! Who are they to judge us on how we look?  
Stan: Yeah! Do you think they rate us just for looks or do they take personality into account?  
Clyde: If it's just looks then I think I'm safe.**


	7. That is WAY Too Much Pressure!

**So, guess what today is? It's my birthday! And we just got our first snowfall of the season. So as my birthday present to myself, I'm updating this story. No, jk, I just happened to get it done last night. Anyways, this chapter's a bit shorter than the rest, so, sorry about that. And it feels a bit like a filler chapter to me. But the title and story description are finally relevant to the story!**

**I don't own South Park. Review?**

* * *

**Beside Me in the Morning**

**Chapter 6: That is WAY too much pressure!**

Cartman was cold when he woke up in the morning. Which was to be expected, considering he was in his basement, in January, in the nude. Though it would have been considerably less cold, he thought, had he not woken up alone. He groaned, wrenching his eyes open. It was dark. He fumbled blindly for a blanket, but by the time he located one bunched up at his feet and pulled it over his bare torso, he was too wide awake to fall back asleep.

"Wendy?" he mumbled, sitting up on the couch.

After locating a box of matches on the end table beside the couch, he lit a kerosene lamp, flooding the basement with light. He glanced around the room and sighed. Wendy was gone. In fact, there was no sign that she had been there at all, aside from the fact that he was naked.

Maybe it was stupid that he'd expected her to be there was he woke up, curled up in his arms. She was in love with Stan, after all, not him. In hindsight, perhaps sleeping with her was not the best decision. But hell, he was only human. A beautiful girl, a girl he happened to be in love with, showed up in his basement and started stripping off his clothes, something that had certainly never happened to him and something he could not expect to happen ever again. What was he supposed to do? Tell her no?

But waking up alone—that was the worst. It served as a cold reminder that Wendy did not feel the same way about him that he did about her.

* * *

"Wends, are you okay?"

"I'm _fine_, Kyle," Wendy snapped, tearing through her locker for her purple pen. The damned thing was nowhere to be found. "Why wouldn't I be fine?"

She was the opposite of fine.

Kyle ran a hand through his curls nervously. "You don't seem fine."

"Well I am. I'm fucking peachy. I couldn't be better. God, where the fuck is my pen?"

Her locker ate it, she decided. It was the fourth purple pen she'd bought that year, and it was only January. The only conclusion she could come to was that her locker fucking ate pens.

Kyle rolled his eyes, offering his own pen to his friend.

Wendy stared down at it. "That pen is red, Kyle."

"Um…I'm aware of that."

"I can't write in red ink. Red ink looks angry on the page. That's why I write in purple. Purple is a friendly color."

Kyle arched an eyebrow. "A friendly color? Do your history notes really have to be friendly?"

"Argh!" Wendy cried, slamming her locker door shut. "It's not in there!"

Kyle rested a hand on her shoulder. "Wendy, call me crazy, but I feel like this is about more than just your pen."

"Oh, you're so fucking perceptive, Broflovski."

She mentally scolded herself. Why was she taking this out on Kyle? It wasn't Kyle's fault her locker ate another purple pen. And it certainly wasn't Kyle's fault she slept with Cartman. But, being the understanding friend that he was, Kyle didn't seem to mind.

"So?" he prodded, tugging on her sleeve, urging her to join him as he slid to the hallway floor. "What's going on?"

Wendy sighed, taking a seat beside him. "You don't need me unloading all my problems onto you," she mumbled, resting her head on Kyle's shoulder.

"Hey, you've gotta unload them onto someone," Kyle replied, taking her hand and stroking his thumb across her knuckles. He must have known how much this gesture comforted her. "And seeing as I'm the closest thing you have to a girl friend…"

This earned a smile from Wendy. "You're so not girly, Kyle. You may be the gayest friend I have, but you're not the girliest."

"You're right. That's Stan."

"Definitely Stan," Wendy agreed, her smile fading. "He told Bebe he loves her," she blurted.

"He told me," Kyle replied, squeezing Wendy's hand. "No wonder you're upset. How did you find out?"

Wendy rocked her head against Kyle's shoulder. "Never mind that. It's not really what I'm upset about anyways."

"What then?"

"Well," Wendy began. "Afterwards, I went to Cartman's…"

"Oh, god, what the hell did he do to you?"

"No, Kyle, he didn't…"

"If he hurt you, I swear to god, I'll kiss his fat ass."

"He didn't do _anything_, Kyle."

"Oh," Kyle muttered, his tight grip on her hand loosening considerably. "What happened then?"

Wendy bit her lip. "You have to promise not to tell Stan."

"I promise. Just tell me what happened."

"Or anyone else, for that matter. Especially Kenny."

"For god's sake, I won't tell Kenny."

"And promise you won't overreact."

"When have I ever overreacted about anything?"

"Kyle…"

"Okay, okay. I won't freak out. Now, what's going on?"

"Okay," Wendy murmured. "Well, last night…"

"Jesus Christ," a voice from above them cut her off. "Are you two cuddling again? And you wonder why people think you're hooking up."

"Fuck off, fatass," Kyle growled. "We're talking."

Cartman rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Wendy, you left this in my basement."

He produced a purple ballpoint pen from his jacket pocket and tossed it into Wendy's lap.

"What do you know?" Kyle mumbled.

"Thanks," Wendy murmured, grabbing the pen with her free hand.

"Now get lost, Cartman. We're trying to..."

"Um, actually, Kyle," Wendy cut him off. "Can I talk to Eric alone for a minute?"

"Eric?" Kyle repeated, staring at her incredulously. She replied with a meaningful look, and he nodded, squeezing her hand momentarily. "All right then. She you later then, Wends." He dropped her hand and rose to his feet. "And that offer still stands, if you want me to kick his ass later."

"That's very sweet of you, Kahl, but I'm sure it won't be necessary," Cartman replied airily. "Or possible, since I'm tougher that you anyways."

Kyle rolled his eyes, slamming roughly into Cartman's side as he walked away, not even bothering to pass it off as an accident. Cartman stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"Goddamn Jew."

"Eric," Wendy said, pushing herself up to her feet.

"I told you not to call me that."

"…Cartman."

"Better."

"Cartman, um… How are you?"

Cartman scratched his neck awkwardly. "Um…fine. How are you?"

"Good," Wendy lied, running a hand through her hair and wincing as she caught a tangle. "I'm great."

"Right," Cartman mumbled, glancing nervously around the hallway. "Um, Wendy." He took a cautious step forward and took hold of Wendy's hands. "About last night. It was…"

"A mistake," Wendy cut him off.

Cartman dropped her hands. "A mistake," he agreed. "Exactly. That's what I was gonna say."

"Right. So if you could just not mention it to Stan…like, ever?"

"Of course not," Cartman mumbled.

Wendy let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Cartman."

"No problem," Cartman replied. "I mean, I wouldn't want Stan to know what a desperate slut you really are."

"What the fuck, Cartman?"

"I just tell it like it is, ho."

* * *

"I just couldn't do it, Clyde," Bebe murmured into her friend's t-shirt. "I tried, but he was just so pathetic and adorable."

"You have to break up with him sooner or later, Bee," Clyde responded, patting her shoulder comfortingly with his good hand.

"I pick later."

"Okay. Your choice."

"What? You're supposed to tell me that I should get it over with now."

Clyde shrugged. "I'm not gonna tell you what to do. Anyways, maybe if you wait it out a while, he'll realize it's not really working."

Bebe groaned. "Don't even try that reverse psychology crap on me, Clyde. It won't work. I'm not Laura Ingalls."

"Bee, I don't even know what reverse psychology is."

"I know you're just telling me to do the wrong thing so I'll disagree with you and do the right thing."

Clyde frowned. "So you're just gonna disagree with whatever I say?"

"Only because you want me to."

"Why would I want you to disagree with me?"

"Because you want me to think I figured it out all on my own."

"Figured what out all on your own?"

"That I have to break up with Stan now, or else everyone's gonna be even worse off in the end."

"But I thought you said you weren't ready to break up with Stan."

"And you're just trying to make me realize that the longer I put it off, the harder it's gonna be."

"Okay, you lost me, Bebe."

Bebe sighed. "You're right. I need to break up with him today."

Clyde scratched his head. "Um…okay."

"Thanks for helping me figure it out."

"You're welcome?"

* * *

After knowing him practically his entire life, Cartman thought he'd be used to Kenny by now. But when he joined the blond at their usual table for lunch, Kenny managed to surprise him with an unusual greeting.

"You had sex last night."

Cartman's eyes grew wide. "Were you spying on me? You pervert."

"Sick, dude. I wasn't spying on you."

"Then how did you…?"

"You _look_ like sex," Kenny cut him off. "You're talking to South Park's resident sexpert. I know when someone's had sex, especially for the first time." Cartman gaped as Kenny continued. "Dude, I can practically _smell_ sex on your breath. My sexdar is 20/20. I'm never wrong about this."

"Okay, god," Cartman replied. "You've made your point. Now will you stop saying…it?" He felt like every eye in the cafeteria was on them.

"Fine. Prude. So…who's the poor girl you took advantage of, huh?"

Cartman's stomach twisted in knots. "Don't say 'took advantage', Kenny."

Kenny grinned. "Guilty conscience. So this was revenge sex? Very hot."

Cartman shook his head. "For once, Kenny, you have no idea what you're talking about."

The blond teenager stared at Cartman, studying his face. He furrowed his brow and locked his blue eyes on Cartman's brown ones, as if trying to pull information straight out of the bigger boy's brain through the flecks of gold and green in his irises. Finally, he spoke. "This is more complicated than I thought."

"No shit."

"So? Who was it?"

"None of your business."

Kenny smirked. "It was Abby Turnerstein, right?"

Cartman groaned. "Why did I even tell you about that? I knew you were gonna rip on me for it every chance you got."

Kenny tore his eyes from Cartman to greet the boy taking a seat beside the blond.

"Hey, Stan."

"Hey, Kenny. Cartman."

Cartman grunted in reply, refusing to look at Stan. This did not go unnoticed by Kenny, but for Cartman's sake, South Park's resident sexpert decided not to comment. That is, until a fourth teenager approached their table.

Wendy glanced nervously at Cartman before taking a seat beside him and across from Stan. "Hey guys," she greeted them. "Hi, Stan." Wendy reached across the table for a napkin, taking careful measures not to brush up against Cartman as she did so. She looked up at him momentarily, and their eyes met for a split second before Wendy turned away, blushing.

"Oh my god!"

Wendy's head snapped up to look at Kenny. "What?" she blurted.

"Yeah, what Kenny?" Stan asked.

Cartman groaned. Of course this…sexdar thing, or whatever Kenny called it, worked on Wendy too. He was bound to figure it out.

"_Nothing_," Cartman replied, looking at Kenny pointedly as if to say, "One word of this to Stan and I'll grind your parents into chili and feed them to you." Kenny just stared at Cartman, dumbstruck.

"Hey guys," Kyle greeted the four of them, taking a seat beside Kenny. "What's going on?"

Kenny rose to his feet. "Cartman," he said. "Hallway. Now." With that, he turned and walked out to the hallway, leaving a dejected-looking Kyle beside his empty seat.

Sighing, Cartman stood and followed the blond out of the cafeteria.

"So, what's up?" he asked, leaning casually against a row of lockers outside the cafeteria doors.

Kenny responded with a hard sock to the shoulder.

"Goddamn it, Kenny!"

"You slept with Wendy?" Kenny replied, a slender hand tangling into his blond locks.

"What do you care? You sleep with anything that walks."

Kenny sighed. "First of all, dumbass, I believe you're thinking of your mother. While my standards are lower than most people's, I do have them."

"Whore."

"And secondly…Wendy? For god's sake, Cartman, could you have picked a girl with more baggage to have a one-night stand with? Was there no other girl fucked in the head enough to want to sleep with you?"

"Kenny, it's not like that. I…"

"You love her," Kenny cut him off. "I know that. But here's the thing. Wendy likes Stan."

"You think I don't know that?"

Kenny shook his head, planting his hands firmly on Cartman's shoulders. "Dude, I'm telling you this as your best friend. You're a fucking idiot."

* * *

"Show that the two families of curves are perpendicular to each other. X squared plus y squared equals a times x and x squared plus y squared equals b times y… Okay, so I think we have to find the derivative of each equation and then… Kyle, are you even listening?"

Kyle snapped his attention back toward his best friend, who was glaring irritably at him. "Huh?"

"Dude, I have to get this pre-calc homework done by seventh period. I lose a letter grade if I turn in another assignment late."

"Yeah, I know," Kyle mumbled, his eyes wandering back to the pair sitting at a table across the library from them.

"So why the hell are you watching Cartman and Kenny slack off instead of helping me with this problem?"

"Don't you ever wonder what those two talk about while we're over here studying?"

"That's easy, Kyle. Cartman says, 'Gawd, look at Stan and Kahl, studying together like a couple of queermos,' and then Kenny replies, "Dude, I banged a blonde last night and then I gave her your phone number and promised her I'd call her.'"

Kyle studied the troubled look on Kenny's face as the blond shook his head at Cartman. It certainly didn't look like he was talking about sleeping with some random and sending her away with empty promises and a fake phone number. Although, he had to admit, Stan's impression of Kenny was a little uncanny.

Stan sighed. "If you want to go over there and talk to them so badly, let's just go. But I'm warning you, if I don't finish this assignment in time, it's on you. Which means I will have the right to copy your homework whenever I please."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "If you don't finish your assignment on time, it's your own damn fault. If you'd pay attention in class you'd know how to do the homework."

"Some best friend you are."

Kyle stood up from his seat. "I just want to talk to Kenny for a few minutes. Then I'll help you with the rest of that assignment. Cross my heart."

"Fine," Stan groaned, standing up as well. "Let's go."

The two meandered across the library to Cartman and Kenny's secluded corner, where Kenny was talking to Cartman in a hushed tone.

"…had sex last night," Kyle heard Kenny whisper. "I still can't believe it. How many people do you think she's told?"

"No one," Cartman replied. "Except maybe…" He spotted the pair walking toward them. "Kahl, Stan, shouldn't you fags be over at your own table studying together like a couple of queermos?"

Stan sent Kyle an I-told-you-so look as the redhead took a seat across from Kenny.

"Who had sex last night?" Kyle asked.

Cartman shot Kenny a desperate glance, and the blond spoke up quickly. "Um, I did."

Stan rolled his eyes. "Color me surprised."

"With who?" Kyle asked, trying to hide the resentment in his voice.

"Um…" Kenny glanced around the library and pointed at a redhead strolling out the door. "Her. Or at least someone who looked like her. She was definitely a redhead."

"Good lord," Stan mumbled under his breath.

"Say what you want about gingers," Kenny went on. "But one thing's for sure. They are feisty in bed. Am I right, Kyle?"

"Fuck off," Kyle replied.

"So, Cartman," Stan said, leaning across the table to address the hefty teen. "Did you get the pre-calc homework?"

Cartman snorted. "Hell no. I always get Butters to do mine for me. He's really cheap, too. I pay him in Milk Duds."

Stan frowned. "Dude, that's totally wrong."

"Hey, he's lucky I give him anything at all."

"It's still not right to use a friend like that, Cartman," Stan replied. "So, does he really do your homework in exchange for candy? Would he do it for Tic-Tacs, because I think I have a full container in my locker?"

"Wanna go ask him? I think he's in the computer lab right now."

Stan hopped out of his seat. "Yeah, dude. Let's go."

Kenny watched the two of them as they made their way to the door. Kyle watched Kenny watch the two of them.

"Oh my fucking god," Kenny hissed, leaning across the table to talk to Kyle as soon as Stan and Cartman were out of earshot.

"What?" Kyle responded.

"Cartman fucked Wendy!"

"_What_?"

"_Cartman had sex with Wendy last night_," Kenny repeated, leaning in closer to Kyle.

Kyle's jaw dropped. "Wendy and…Cartman?"

"I know, right?"

Kyle shook his head, jumping to his feet. "I'll fucking kill him."

Kenny made a grab for Kyle's hand. "Sit down, Kyle. He didn't do anything wrong."

"This is Cartman we're talking about. He's _always_ done something wrong."

"Well not this time, okay? If you have to kill Cartman for having sex, then you have to kill me, like…a bunch of times."

Kyle sighed, slumping back down in his seat. "But…it's Wendy. She's like a sister to me. How would you feel if Cartman fucked your sister?"

"Okay, first of all, my sister's thirteen. And Cartman's not in love with my sister."

"I know. It's just…" Kyle tugged a hand through his curls. "I just don't want her getting hurt."

"And I don't want him getting hurt. But at this point, I think it's kind of inevitable."

Kyle licked his lips. "So… Does this mean you were lying about sleeping with some girl last night?"

"Dude, I was at your house last night."

"Oh," Kyle muttered. "Oh yeah."

"Although, your mom is a redhead…"

"Kenny McCormick, you better shut your goddamn mouth."

* * *

As he made his way to the front door after school, Craig stopped in his tracks when he spotted a melancholy Wendy Testaburger staring glumly into her locker. He watched her for a moment, debating whether to go talk to her or just walk on past. In the end, he sauntered over to her side.

"Hey, Wendy. What's up?"

"Huh? Oh. Hi, Craig. Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Well, something. But it's…nothing."

"Are you sure?"

Wendy nodded. "I'm sure."

"Because if this is about Stan, Clyde told me that Bebe's planning to break up with him."

Wendy looked up, her eyes meeting Craig's for the first time. "Really?"

"Yeah. Chin up, kid. Everything's gonna work out."

Wendy smiled weakly. "I hope so."

Craig's frowned deepened. The smile on Wendy's face only seemed to make her look sadder.

"This isn't about Stan, is it?"

Wendy returned her gaze to her open locker. "Not really."

"You wanna talk about it?"

Wendy shook her head.

"Well, you want, like, a hug or something?"

Craig wasn't really the hugging type, but he was in a generous mood, considering what Clyde had told him about this morning's conversation with Bebe, so he figured he could give it a try to help out an almost-friend type person.

Wendy stared back up at him, her eyes wide with emotion.

"A hug would be nice."

Craig opened his arms hesitantly, and Wendy collapsed into them, shaking with sobs.

"W-woah, there," Craig stammered, his hands finding Wendy's back and patting it awkwardly. "Don't cry."

"I'm sorry," Wendy choked out. "It's just been a bad day, I guess."

"Um…there, there," Craig soothed. At least, he was attempting to soothe her, although he wasn't sure how soothing he actually was. He just stood there stiffly, rubbing her back robotically as she cried into his shoulder. "You can, uh, tell me about it. If you want."

"I just did something really stupid that I wish I could take back."

"We've all been there, I guess."

"I really should be running into the arms of guys I don't like when I'm upset."

Craig wrinkled his forehead. He was pretty sure she'd just told him she didn't like him, which he thought was kind of uncalled for, considering he was going far out of his comfort zone by holding her and letting her cry into his shoulder. But, she was distraught, after all, so he'd let that one slide.

As he gradually loosened up and tightened his grip on her, rubbing small circles into the small of her back as she cried, her erratic breathing slowed and her sobs transformed into soft hiccups.

"If you need someone to talk to, like, a girl, I bet Bebe would be there for you in a heartbeat," Craig offered. "She's better at this kind of thing than I am."

Wendy shook her head, burying her face deeper in the folds of his t-shirt. "You're doing just fine, Craig."

* * *

"Stan!" Bebe called, flagging down her boyfriend in the crowded hallway.

Stan glanced over at her and muttered something to Kyle before jogging up to her side.

"What's up?"

"Hi, Stan," Bebe greeted him, wringing her hands nervously.

This didn't go unnoticed by Stan.

"Everything okay?" he asked, seizing both of her hands in his.

Bebe licked her lips. "Uh, yeah. At least it will be."

"What's going on?"

Bebe sighed. "Stan, listen. You're a great guy…"

"God, I don't like the sound of this."

"And being with you has been great," Bebe went on.

"But?"

Her eyes met his. "Stan, I…"

Her voice trailed off as she glanced over her boyfriend's shoulder. Her frown deepened at the sight. There was Craig, standing at Wendy's locker and holding the girl in his arms like he never wanted to let her go. Bebe tried to dismiss the sting in her chest, and told herself that it was definitely not a pang of jealousy. But when Craig's eyes met hers, his expression blank, she had to tear her eyes away from the scene.

"Bebe?" Stan said nervously.

And before she even had time to stop herself, she tugged her boyfriend down by the collar and pulled him into a searing kiss.

* * *

**I really feel like I need to do more with Stan in this story. He just seems really two-dimensional to me. And Bebe sort of gets on my nerves in this chapter, which I didn't really intend. Meh, anyways, what'd you think?**


	8. Don't Kick the Baby

**Hey, everybody. Long time no update. I'm so sorry.**

**I feel like I owe some sort of explanation as to why it's taken me nine and a half months to update this story. I think the main reason is that I like to keep myself open to criticism, but in the case of this story, I listened to _too much_ of other people's advice, to the point that it no longer felt like the story I originally set out to tell. Honestly, it started to sound like an episode of _The Secret Life of the American Teenager_ to me. Which killed me, because that is simply the worst show on television.**

**However, after a well-needed hiatus, I've re-read the story and decided it's not as terrible as I thought it was back in January. So I'm giving it another shot.**

**I don't own South Park. **

* * *

**Beside Me in the Morning**

**Chapter 7: Don't Kick the Baby**

"I'm home," Kyle announced, making a beeline to his room as soon as he'd gotten through the door. "Lots of homework."

His mother shouted her greeting from the kitchen and his father didn't even look up from his crossword puzzle as he nodded his acknowledgement. His parents had been giving him a ridiculous amount of space ever since he'd broken up with Wendy. Well, not right away, actually. When he first announced that they were broken up, his mother bothered him for weeks about why he'd allowed that nice girl to get away. When he'd finally had enough, Kyle had blown up at his mother, informing her that who he liked or didn't like was none of her business. He must have gotten through to her, because she'd refrained from asking any questions about his personal life since then. There was only one way to explain his parents' sudden respect for his privacy: they'd figured out the real reason he and Wendy had broken up. This was fine, he decided. After all, they weren't drilling him about it, and if they weren't going to bother him for details, he certainly wasn't going to offer them any. So after school every day, Kyle went straight to his room, and his parents just left him alone.

His brother was not so kind.

"So," Ike said, slipping into Kyle's room and making himself comfortable on the edge of his bed.

"Go away," Kyle replied, digging through his backpack for his pre-calc book.

"You got rid of that freaky blond growth on your side, I see."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Shut up. I haven't been hanging out with Kenny that much."

"You have too," Ike responded. "I know, because our pantry is completely bare, and that only happens when you let that freeloading bastard invade our kitchen."

"He's not a freeloader. He's poor."

"Yeah, dude. He's a freeloader _because_ he's poor. That's just how poor people are."

"You sound like Cartman."

Ike shrugged. "Cartman's not so bad."

"Cartman's a fat, anti-Semitic bastard."

"I think he's funny."

"You have poor judgment skills."

Ike scoffed. "Says the guy who's got a boner for Kenny McCormick."

Kyle's head snapped up from his text book. "Excuse me?"

"I overheard Mom and Dad talking in their room last night. They think you might be gay."

"And you share this suspicion."

"You're not denying it."

"Just because I don't like Wendy doesn't mean I'm gay."

"No, but having a boner for Kenny does."

"I never said I liked him."

Ike dismissed his statement with a quick wave of his hand. "Whatever, man. I don't care. But seriously, why do you like him?"

Kyle sighed. "I don't know."

"I mean, what about Stan? Stan's a nice guy. Can't you like him instead?"

"If I could choose who I like, I'd like Wendy."

Ike shrugged. "Whatever. You're lucky, man. You don't have to deal with chicks and all their drama."

"What do you know about girl drama? You're ten."

"Hey, I'm almost eleven. And I have a girlfriend."

"Oh, yeah? How'd you manage that? You share your Lunchable with her?"

Ike crossed his arms defiantly. "Okay, first of all, she likes me for my charming smile. Secondly, Lunchables are awesome no matter how old and boring you are. Don't pretend you don't think so."

Kyle closed his text book and set it aside. "No offense, Ike, but you don't know anything about the real world. Skip as many grades as you want, but you're sill ten years old and enthusiastic about stackable lunchmeat and crackers."

"I'm old enough to know that Kenny's sort of into you."

"Ike, get out."

"If you put out, you might have a chance with him."

"Get out before I kick you out. I mean it. I will literally kick you out of this room."

"Keep painting on your jeans, and you might not even have to put out."

"You know I'll do it," Kyle warned, standing up.

Ike raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. I'm going."

* * *

"Did you tell Kenny?"

Cartman slid a record onto the player and set down the needle. "No," he answered as the record began to spin.

"_Chances are because I wear a silly grin the moment you come into view…"_

"You're lying."

"_Chances are you think that I'm in love with you…_"

"I am not," Cartman replied, taking a seat on the couch beside Wendy. "I didn't tell him. He just figured it out."

"So he does know."

"Yeah."

Wendy groaned.

"_Just because my composure sort of slips the moment that your lips meet mine…"_

"It's just Kenny," Cartman pointed out. "He may harass you mercilessly, but he's basically harmless."

"_Chances are you think my heart's your valentine…_"

"But it's _Kenny_. You know if Kenny knows something, pretty soon everyone is gonna know. The whole school is already talking about Heidi's bun in the oven. That's gonna be us next. 'Hey, did you hear? Wendy did it with Cartman in his basement.'"

"He won't tell anyone about us."

"How can you be so sure?"

"_In the magic of moonlight…"_

"He's my best friend. God, Wendy, he may be a sick, skinny little asshole with a mouth on him, but Kenny's got my back."

Wendy sighed. "It still makes me nervous that he knows."

"_When I sigh, hold me close dear…"_

"Did you tell Kyle?"

"No," Wendy replied sharply. "Not that it would matter if I did, because Kyle can keep a secret."

"_Chances are you believe the stars that fill the skies are in my eyes_."

"Are you ashamed that it was with me?" Cartman asked quietly.

Wendy shifted uncomfortably. "No," she lied.

He raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Really?"

Wendy shrugged. "You're a pretty decent guy."

"You're a lying little bitch."

"Okay, fine. You're an asshole. But you can be sort of sweet sometimes. And you're…I don't know…sort of handsome. In your own way."

"If you're gonna lie to spare my feelings, you could at least come up with better compliments."

"I'm not lying, Eric. You're a good guy."

Wendy could barely utter the words without choking.

"_Guess you feel you'll always be the one and only one for me, and if you think you could…"_

"Sure, Wendy."

"_Well, chances are your chances are awfully good_."

"What is up with this sappy music?" Wendy asked suddenly, standing abruptly and striding toward the record player.

"This song is a classic. I thought you _liked_ old things. I mean, look around. The record player. The kerosene lamps. That's why you hang out down here, isn't it?"

"I hang out down here because I like your company."

Cartman laughed.

"It's true!" Wendy exclaimed, and this time she really did mean it.

She _did_ like Cartman's company. True, he was a sexist, racist, homophobic jackass. But Cartman understood her feelings in a way that nobody else, not even Kyle, did.

Cartman rolled his eyes. "Uh huh."

Wendy sighed, lifting the needle from the record. "Wanna watch a movie?"

Cartman shrugged. "I guess."

Wendy chose _The Little Mermaid_ from his stacks of VHS tapes. Cartman put in the tape while Wendy settled back into the sofa. She expected Cartman to put up a fight over her movie choice, but he didn't. He merely slipped in the tape and joined her on the couch, rolling his eyes when she hummed along to the songs. And Wendy didn't complain when Cartman draped an arm around her shoulder. And he didn't say a word when she tucked her head into the crook of his neck.

Sitting like that, the room lit only by the glowing TV screen and a couple of kerosene lamps, an outsider might have viewed the scene as somewhat romantic, and as this thought crossed Wendy's mind, she was surprised to find that she didn't really mind.

* * *

If there was anything Stan had more experience with than Kenny, it was being dumped. By the age of sixteen, he'd been dumped exactly six times, so he considered himself a bit of an expert.

His first two relationships were with Wendy. Both times, he started to notice her pulling away toward the end. She would avoid eye contact, shy away from any kind of conversation, and spend more and more time whispering quietly with Bebe by the swing set. The first breakup came as a shock to him. The second time, it came as less of a surprise, and he agreed that it was time to end it for good.

His next girlfriend was Lola Stewart in sixth grade. They'd been together three months before it started to unravel. First he wasn't spending enough time with her. Then he was smothering her. Next it was the way he wore his hair, and the way his shoes never went with his pants, and how he nibbled on his cuticles. When she finally dumped him, he'd been relieved.

For a brief period in seventh grade, Stan dated Henrietta Biggle. He would later tell Kyle that those were the scariest two months of his life, but at the time, the older goth girl seemed cool and forbidden. Not to mention, she had the biggest rack in the entire eighth grade class. The problem was, she was always, _always_ insulting him. It was when Henrietta stopped calling him a "damn hippie conformist" that he knew she was going to break up with him.

In the beginning of his freshman year, Stan dated Sally Turner. At first, she would go out of her way to impress him. When he picked her up for the homecoming dance that year, he'd sat in the living room with her mother for two hours while he waited for her to finish getting ready. She wanted to look nice for him, she'd explained later. When he picked her up for their five month anniversary date later that year, she answered the door in jeans and a tank top, and accompanied him to the movies wearing no makeup at all. The next day, she dumped him.

Later on during his freshman year, Stan started dating Mindy Gardner. She was practically attached at the hip with her best friend, Esther, who had an obsessive crush on Kenny. He dated Mindy for almost a year, which was longer than most of his relationships lasted. During the final month that they were together, Stan started to notice her growing distant. And then one day, as he sat down with his friends to eat lunch, Esther looked up at him with those sad, sympathetic eyes, and he knew it was over. Because he'd learned from his past humiliations how to read the signs. And the sympathetic best friend was the kiss of death.

"I think Bebe's gonna dump me," Stan announced.

Kyle glanced up from his history book and gazed across the old tree house at his companion. "How come?"

Stan shrugged. "I can just feel it. Clyde gave me this look after class today. You know, that 'Watch out, it's coming,' look."

Kyle furrowed his brow in concern, closing his book. "This about Craig, you think?"

"Probably."

"Sucks, man."

"I don't get it," Stan muttered, leaning his head back against the wall of the tree house. "I mean, I'm a pretty decent guy, right? At least I'm not an asshole like Craig. In the movies, the nice guy always gets the girl. What girl in her right mind would choose John Bender over Lloyd Dobler?"

Kyle raised an eyebrow. "Are you likening yourself to Lloyd Dobler? 'Cause, dude, he was kind of a dreamboat, and you're…just Stan."

"Thanks, Kyle."

"And anyways, Bender _did_ get a girl."

"Yeah, but she was a bitch."

"That's true."

"Not to mention a ginger."

"Now you're just being hurtful, Stan," Kyle deadpanned.

Stan sighed. "Dude, I _know_ she's gonna dump me. The worst part is just sitting around waiting for it to happen."

"You could always break up with her instead," Kyle suggested.

"I can't do that," Stan replied.

The redhead shrugged. "Or you could hand Bebe a paring knife and drop your shorts for her so she can cut off your balls. That is, if you still have them by now. What is this, your eighth time being dumped?"

"Funny, Kyle. And no, this will be the seventh."

"I just think you deserve to be the dumper instead of the dumped for once."

"No, for once I deserve a relationship that doesn't end in disaster."

Kyle groaned. "You know what, Lloyd Dobler? You're starting to sound more like…Molly Ringwald in any movie she's ever been in. Is your self-esteem so low, dude? Why do you _need_ to be in a relationship? I mean, can't you be happy on your own?"

"And be single forever like Cartman?"

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Forever, Stan? We're in high school. You didn't think you were gonna marry Bebe and grow old with her, did you?"

"Well, no, but…"

"So why don't you just _relax_. Start worrying about who you are for once instead of who you're with. Jesus, do you remember when you went out with that goth girl? The one with the enormous boobs."

"Of course I remember. She was scary as fuck."

"But do you remember what _you_ were like when you were with her?"

Stan shrugged. "I guess I drank a lot of coffee back then."

"Stan, you were depressing. You wore black all the time and wrote a poem called 'Headstone on my Broken Soul'. And when I told you you were acting like a dick, you called me a 'goddamn conformist' and told me to go pick a flower."

"Okay, so I went through a goth phase."

"My point is, you define yourself based on who you're dating," Kyle went on. "I mean, can't you just be Stan?"

"I…can't. I can't just be Stan."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't know who that is."

* * *

"You're not still fucking her, are you?"

"No, Kenny! God!"

"Dude," Kenny said, glancing up from his book to look at Cartman, who was standing at the pool table, cue in hand. "It's bad enough you let Wendy steal your virginity. I don't think you're doing yourself any favors by continuing to hang out with her and allowing her to basically stomp your dick into the ground."

"She hasn't handled my dick in any way since that night, okay?"

"No, she just ripped out your heart."

Cartman rolled his eyes. "You're being overdramatic, Kenny."

"No, overdramatic is when a chick hears the guy she likes say 'I love you' to someone else and then runs off and jumps the first guy she sees."

"Well said."

"I think you should stop hanging out with her. It's a scientific fact that you can't hang out with someone you've slept with."

"Oh yeah? So now you read books and spout off scientific facts?"

"Well, I have a test over this book on Monday and Kyle won't let me cheat off him, so I have to actually read it. It's not that bad, actually. I'm almost finished."

"Stop reading and come rip on people and play pool with me."

"Hold on, Cartman. I'm on the last page and I think George is about to…" he paused as he skimmed down the page. "Fuck, he just killed him. What the fuck?"

"Are you done?" Cartman asked irritably. "Put the book away, Kenny. No doing homework when you come over here. That's officially a new basement rule."

"I have to do homework, Cartman."

"Since when? Homework is for smart people."

"Hey, I'm smart," Kenny defended himself. "I just need to apply myself."

"Who told you that? Mr. Mackey?"

"No. Kyle."

"Stop hanging out with Kyle. He's a bad influence on you."

"How is Kyle a bad influence?"

"He's a fag."

"Yeah, that makes sense."

"Kyle's a fag and he has gay little crush on Stan."

"Better watch out then. He might get jealous of Bebe and then try to sleep with you."

"Shut up, Kenny. We can't joke about that yet."

The faint noise of a vacuum cleaner started above their heads, and Kenny glanced up at the ceiling before returning his gaze to his best friend.

"Where'd you two do it anyways? It wasn't, like, somewhere your mom could hear you, was it? Because that would be creepy."

Cartman froze, clutching his pool cue in both fists and darting his eyes in every direction but Kenny's.

The blond cocked his head to the side. "Dude, what? You did it down here or something? Like, on top of the pool table, _American Pie_ style? Or on the…" His eyes widened, and he jumped to his feet. "Dude! _Dude_! On the couch? Seriously? You could have told me before I sat down!"

"What was I supposed to say? 'Kenny, don't sit on the couch because Wendy and I had sex there on Wednesday night.'?"

"Yes! That's exactly what you should have said."

"Dude, it's not like it's infected now or something. If anything,_ I_ should be nervous that _you've_ been sitting on it."

"Thanks, Cartman."

"I'm seriously. I need to put up caution tape around the couch now that says, 'Warning: Kenny's Ghetto STDs.'"

"Cartman, believe me, nothing more disgusting than your naked ass will ever touch this couch."

"Hey, I lost my virginity before Stan or Kyle, so I'm starting to think maybe my ass isn't as awful as people tell me it is. In fact, Wendy says I'm handsome."

"Did she, now?"

"Yeah. She told me I'm good-looking, and even kind of sweet."

"Were those her exact words?"

Cartman frowned. "Well, she used those words. Among others…"

"Don't, man."

Cartman set his pool cue aside. "Don't what?"

"I can see it in your eyes, dude. You're starting to tell yourself that she really kind of likes you but just doesn't realize it yet. These are not healthy thoughts. Don't. Go. There."

"Well, she even told me that…"

"Let me suggest something, Cartman," Kenny cut him off, strolling to the pool table and hoisting himself onto the edge. "I propose a new basement rule. No Wendy allowed. No hanging out with her down here. No talking about her down here. No thinking about her down here. This is a Wendy Free Zone."

"But…she and I fixed this place up together. And we…you know." He nodded toward the couch.

"And tonight, you and I are going to rid this place of Wendy once and for all."

"And how are we gonna do that?"

Kenny grinned. "We're gonna get wasted."

Cartman rolled his eyes. "And how's that gonna help?"

"Alcohol erases memories, man. I don't remember half the girls I've slept with. And you know why? Because I was drunk when I fucked them."

"Well, I'm not you, Kenny. And Wendy's not just some skank. I wish she was. I wish I could be like you and just fuck whoever I want and not give a damn," Cartman admitted, slumping toward the couch and taking a seat. "I wish I could just be happy without…you know…her."

Kenny sighed. "Dude, I don't know if 'happy' is the word I'd use to describe my situation."

"Really?"

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not, like, miserable or anything. I'm pretty satisfied most of the time."

"And the rest of the time?"

Kenny stared down at his best friend from his perch atop the pool table. "Just once, I want someone to be there when I wake up in the morning."

* * *

"Hey, Stan," Bebe greeted, letting her boyfriend into her room.

"Hey," Stan replied, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Bebe glanced around her room awkwardly. "Have a seat," she offered.

Stan rocked back on the balls of his feet. "I'd rather stand if that's okay."

Bebe raised an eyebrow. "Okay."

"But you should sit."

"Okay." Bebe perched herself nervously on the edge of her bed, staring up at Stan expectantly. "You wanted to talk about something?"

Stan nodded, biting his lip. "Bebe, I think we should break up."

Her eyebrows shot up. "You do?"

"Well, no, but…I get the feeling that _you_ want to break up."

She cringed. Bebe had been avoiding his conversation for too long, and in the end, it was Stan who finally had the guts to do it.

"I'm sorry, Stan."

"Yeah, me too."

"I should have been up front with you…"

"You, you should have," Stan cut her off. Bebe hung her head, and he sighed. "Look, I'm sorry if I made you feel like it would kill me if you broke up with me. And I know you tried to have this conversation the other day, and I just wasn't having it. So I'm partially to blame."

"I shouldn't have played along though. I shouldn't have…"

"Used me to make Craig jealous?"

"Stan, I wasn't!"

"Really? At school yesterday, when you kissed me in front of him?"

Bebe sighed. "Well…at first I wasn't."

"They why did you agree to go out with me?"

She swallowed. "I thought Wendy and I could be friends again," she admitted. "But I thought I could like you eventually. You're such a nice guy, Stan."

"Great. That's just what I wanted to hear."

"Can we still be…?"

"Honestly, I don't think we can."

Before she could say another word, Stan turned and walked out of Bebe's room.

She'd never been dumped before. This was completely new to her. She wondered if Stan had expected her to cry. She'd cried when she'd broken up with Craig. She'd cried for days.

She lay back on her bed with a sigh, fishing her phone out of her pocket. There was only one voice she wanted to hear right now. Only one person qualified to lend his ear at a time like this. She hit the first speed dial and brought her phone to her ear.

"Hello?" he answered on the first ring.

"Hey, Clyde. Do you have a minute?"

"For you, Bee? I have two."

* * *

"Hey, Kyle," Ike greeted, sticking his head into his brother's room.

"Go away," Kyle replied, not tearing his eyes from his copy of _Of Mice and Men_.

"I just wanted to let you know that your freeloading boyfriend is stumbling down the street right now."

Kyle glanced up. "But it's, like, ten o'clock."

"Yep. I think he's plastered."

Kyle sighed, kicking his legs over the side of his bed. "Fuck."

"He might need some help getting home."

"Kenny's a big boy," Kyle replied, leaning over to slip on his boots. "He doesn't need to be taken care of."

"Then why are you getting ready to go out there?"

"Get out," Kyle replied with a sharp glare.

Five minutes later, Kyle was shuffling out his front door, zipping up his coat.

"Kyle!" Kenny shouted instantly, from his seat in the middle of the snowy street.

"Kenny, what the fuck are you doing?"

"My legs got tired," Kenny explained. "My ass is wet now."

He immediately cracked up after that, and Kyle rolled his eyes, rushing out to the street to drag Kenny to his feet.

"You're a good friend," Kenny slurred, throwing his arms around the redhead.

"You're fucking lucky I am. I haven't finished reading _Of Mice and Men_ for U.S. lit."

"I read that!" Kenny cried, poking Kyle's shoulder excitedly. "Lenny dies in the end."

"Dammit, Kenny. I just told you I haven't finished it yet."

"Then I won't tell you that George shoots him."

"Well, thanks for not giving that away. Why the fuck are you drunk and in front of my house anyways?"

"Cartman was depressed," Kenny explained. "So I cheered him up. By getting him wasted."

"And you're at my house because…?"

Kenny glanced around, disoriented. "I have no idea how I got here."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Okay then. Let's get you home, dumbass."

Kenny laughed as he allowed Kyle to drag him in the direction of his house.

"What's so funny?" Kyle asked.

"I don't remember!" Kenny cackled.

"You're stupid as fuck when you're drunk, Kenny."

"Isn't everyone?"

"I guess so," Kyle mumbled, continuing their trek toward Kenny's house.

"Kyle," Kenny slurred, locking both arms around Kyle's shoulders.

"Yeah, Kenny?"

"You're a really good friend."

"You said that already."

"Because you are. Most people would just leave me drunk in the snow to die or whatever. But not you. It's like you really care."

"I do care, Kenny."

"You're such a good friend."

Kyle laughed. "I think we've established that." He tightened his grip around Kenny's waist. They walked in silence for a moment before Kyle spoke again. "Hey, Ken?"

"Uh huh?"

"Can I tell you something?"

"You can tell me anything," Kenny replied with a laugh. "I probably won't remember in the morning anyways."

"I'm gay."

* * *

"Hey, Eric," Wendy greeted, as she bounded down his basement steps. "You won't believe this. Stan just called me. He broke up with Bebe. Can you believe that? _He_ dumped _her_. He finally came to his fucking senses and… Are you okay?"

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, Wendy found Cartman huddled up on his couch with Clyde Frog nestled under one arm, his face glowing under the light of one of the kerosene lamps.

He hiccupped.

"Hi, Wendy."

Wendy crossed the room cautiously. "Eric, are you drunk?"

"Only a little," Cartman admitted.

She took a seat beside him on the couch. Their thighs brushed as she sat, and he scooted away instantly.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"No. Why would anything be wrong?"

"Well, I just came over here to tell you that Stan…"

"I'd rather not talk about Stan, if that's okay," he cut her off.

Her frown deepened. "Okay. We can just hang out then." She placed a hand on his shoulder. "I don't know what's bothering you, but if you need someone…"

"Actually," he said, placing Clyde Frog on the armrest beside him. "I don't think that's a good idea."

She squinted at him, confused. "What's not a good idea?"

"You hanging out here."

"I guess I could come back tomorrow morning…"

"No, Wendy. I mean, I don't think you and I should hang out anymore. At all."

She drew her hand back, hurt. "But… I thought we were friends."

"Yeah, well that's only because you're delusional," he snapped, standing up.

"What?"

"I don't want to hang out with you anymore," he repeated. Slowly, as if he were talking to a small child.

"But… Eric, you're the only one who…"

"Don't you get it? I can't stand to be around you. I don't want to hear about your relationship problems. I can't keep listening to you go on about how badly you want Stan. We can't be friends, Wendy."

Her lips parted slightly. She wanted to yell at him. To tell him off. To tell him what an asshole he was for letting her believe, however briefly, that he could relate to her. That he understood her in a way nobody else did. All she could do, though, was breathe in deeply and will herself not to cry.

"Why not?" she whispered finally.

He shook his head sadly. "Because I'm in love with you."

* * *

**Dun dun DUN!**

**If you've made it this far, thanks for sticking around. Again, sorry it took so long. Please review! Or, you know, whatever.**


	9. I've Learned Something Today

**What's this? And update?**

**This chapter is long, and a lot of shit happens in it. It's weird, the chapters in this story are, like, twice as long as the chapters in Fall Back. Also, there's a lot more drama and a lot less humor in this chapter. Hope you enjoy anyways.**

**I don't own South Park.**

* * *

**Beside Me in the Morning**

**Chapter 8: I've Learned Something Today**

Kenny squeezed his eyes shut as tight as they'd go, trying to block out the sunlight that streamed through his window, making his eyelids glow red. He felt like he'd been hit by a bus. And for all he knew, he had been. It had happened enough times before. As he rubbed his temples in attempt to massage away the splitting headache, he tried to recall the events of the previous night.

He'd gone to Cartman's. He remembered that much. He'd been drinking. That would account for the headache. What had happened next? He remembered attempting to walk home in the snow in his drunken state. Had he died and reawaken in his bed?

No. He remembered something else. Kyle had shown up. He'd helped Kenny get home. And he'd…

Holy fuck, had Kyle really come out to Kenny or was he making that part up in his head? Drinking too much had a tendency to fuck with Kenny's memory. And his ability to work him own zipper, but apparently that hadn't been a problem last night. He happily realized he'd managed to undress himself before stumbling into bed. A major accomplishment for how drunk he'd been.

Kenny rolled onto his stomach, burying his face in his pillow to block out the light. But as he turned over, his hand brush against something warm. He frowned, reaching out blindly to figure out what he'd touched. He made contact again, running his hand along the object that now felt unmistakably like skin.

This was an interesting development. He certainly didn't recall _that_ part of the night. Who would have slept with him when he was _that_ drunk? And more importantly, who would have actually stayed the night with him afterwards?

He cautiously pried open his eyes, afraid of both the blinding light that would hit them and who he might find in his bed when he got them open. The last person he expected to see was Kyle Broflovski. So, understandably, his first reaction to seeing his friend, half-clothed in his bed with him, was to scream.

And Kyle's natural reaction, apparently, to being startled awake by his screaming friend, was to topple out of Kenny's bed.

Kenny sat up. "Kyle?"

He heard a hoarse groan from his bedroom floor, and Kyle's hand sprang up to clutch the edge of the bed. "Dude!" he moaned, dragging himself to his feet. "What the fuck?"

Kenny reached out his hand, helping Kyle back onto his bed. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

Kyle blinked. "You don't remember?"

Kenny's eyes widened. "We didn't…?"

"Kenny, no! God! You were drunk and I got you home. There was a blizzard outside, so I stayed over."

Kenny nodded, satisfied with Kyle's story so far. "And why isn't either of us wearing pants?"

Kyle raised an eyebrow. "You think I took advantage of you while you were drunk? Does that sound like me, Kenny?"

"Not…not really.

"Our clothes were wet from the snow."

Kenny licked his lips. "Right. That makes sense." Of course they hadn't done it. He would have known if they had. Kenny had a sixth sense about this kind of thing, and Kyle definitely wasn't giving off that just-had-sex vibe.

And anyways, he was straight, Kenny reminded himself. Even drunk out of his mind, he wouldn't have had sex with a guy.

He tugged his sheets around himself. "You did tell me you're gay, right? When you were walking me home? I'm not imagining that?"

Kyle sighed. "Yeah. That part you got right." He perched himself on the edge of Kenny's bed. "But it doesn't change anything, okay? I'm still the same Kyle."

Kenny shook his head. "Right. Of course."

"That means I still hate Cartman, I'm still Stan's best friend and I still don't want my first time having sex to be with a drunken moron who can't work his own zipper."

Kenny blushed. "You had to help me get my pants off?"

"You can thank me later."

Kenny groaned, falling back onto his pillow. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, you should be," Kyle replied, locating his jeans and quickly slipping them on. "Having to see your bare chicken legs. That can scar a guy for life."

"That's not what I meant," Kenny said, covering his eyes with his hands. "I meant for accusing you of…you know."

"Raping you?"

"Yeah, that."

"Tell you what. We can put this whole thing behind us if you swear to God you'll never tell another soul what I told you last night."

Kenny drew an "x" over his heart. "I swear to God, dude. I'd cross my heart if I had one."

* * *

"I can't believe you did it, dude."

"_You_ told me to."

It was Sunday afternoon, and Cartman was in his basement with Kenny. It was his first time talking to anyone since Friday night, and in all honesty, he still wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone. But Kenny was a persistent little fucker, not to mention his best friend, so there was no keeping him out of Cartman's business.

"I told you to cut Wendy loose, not express your undying devotion to her."

"I don't have an _undying _devotion to her. I'd say whatever devotion was there is already dying. I'm over her man."

"Just like that?"

"Poof," Cartman replied, splaying out his chubby fingers. "Feelings gone."

Kenny rolled his eyes, chalking up his pool cue. "You know you can't lie to me, Cartman."

"Well, fuck, Kenny. Erasing someone from your memory is not as easy as you make it sound."

"Don't be such a drama queen," Kenny said, lining up his pool cue with the cue ball. "Some other skank will come along and you'll forget all about this one."

"She's not just some skank and you know it."

Kenny sunk a striped ball into the corner pocket. "I know that she's a psychotic bitch. Seriously, what is it about Wendy, dude? What makes her so different from all the other girls?"

"Besides that she's never fucked you?"

"Yes, clearly she has high standards since she's only done it with you," Kenny replied, dismissing this detail with a wave of his hand. "But seriously."

Cartman perched himself on the edge of the pool table. "I don't know. Wendy… She can hold her own. She's smart. She's tough. She never takes any shit from anybody, you know? Especially not from me."

"And that's what does it for you, huh?" Kenny asked, circling the table to find his next shot.

"I can't really explain it, Kenny." Cartman shook his head. "Anyways, why should I have to? You must have liked her too at some point. You went out with her."

"Only because she was painfully insecure and I thought it would make her put out."

"That's sick, Kenny."

"It worked for you."

"That's very funny, Ken. Good one."

"You know I'm kidding, Cartman."

"You know what baffles me?" Cartman muttered. "Kyle knows Wendy better than anyone, and he _had_ her. Why the hell would he ever break up with her?"

Kenny scratched his head. "Who knows?"

"And fucking Stan. Why is he so fucking clueless?"

Kenny sighed, laying his pool cue down on the table. "You need to forget about her, Cartman."

"Thanks, I hadn't thought of that."

"Maybe you should try to meet a new girl," Kenny suggested.

"Look at me, Kenny. You and I both know I could never score a girl better than Wendy."

"Hey, you lost your virginity, so you've already exceeded my expectations."

"Up yours."

"Seriously, dude. She's not worth it. Take it from me, no girl is."

Cartman shook his head. "You're full of shit, dude."

Kenny scowled. "I am not."

"You're always spouting that shit about how you're 'immune to love', but do you know what I think? I think you can love just like any other human being. You just_ don't_ because you're too realistic to believe anyone could ever love you back."

Kenny narrowed his eyes, stroking his bottom lip with his thumb as he studied Cartman. He pointed a finger at his best friend calmly. "That was very mean, Cartman. That might have been the meanest thing anyone's ever said to me."

Cartman shrugged. "What's your point?"

Kenny nodded, a satisfied smile forming on his face. "You're gonna be alright, man."

* * *

Cartman wasn't the kind to show up early to class. He spent most mornings chatting in the hallway with Kenny, never arriving to homeroom until the final bell had rung. But Monday morning was different. He didn't have the energy to deal with Kenny that morning. He didn't even have the energy to torment Kyle. And he certainly didn't have the energy to face Wendy in the hallway.

Which was why he'd gone straight to homeroom when he arrived at school that morning, shoving past Kenny and Kyle when they'd tried to greet him by his locker. He'd chosen a desk in the back corner of the classroom to curl up in, burying his face in his arms.

He didn't want to face anyone. He'd have skipped school, but ditching classes to avoid facing someone was exactly the kind of thing Stan would do, and he had no desire to be like that asshole.

He had about ten minutes until class started, and four homework assignments he hadn't bothered to do that weekend. Not that he cared. He wished he was in his basement. Just him, Clyde Frog and his VHS of _The Lion King_.

He heard the door to the classroom open and footsteps coming toward him. He didn't move, thinking nothing of it until the other student spoke.

"Eric?"

He didn't need to lift his head to know who it was.

"Go away, Wendy," he groaned into his coat sleeve.

"Can we talk?"

"No. Go away."

He heard the desk beside him squeak.

"Please?"

"Wendy…" He lifted his head. She was wearing her hair in a messy ponytail and had on a blue flannel shirt that he thought might have belonged to her dad at some point. It was the prettiest he'd ever seen her. "You're making this really hard on me."

"I know."

She licked her lips. He tore his eyes away.

"What do you want?"

She reached across the aisle between their two desks and placed her hand on his elbow. He jerked it away. She tugged her hand back.

"S-sorry."

He looked down at his hands. "I'm listening, okay? Just say what the fuck you have to say."

Wendy swallowed. "There aren't very many people I feel like I can really talk to. For the longest time, all I had was Kyle."

"And?"

"And then you and I started hanging out. And it was unexpected and new and…you understood me. In a way no one else has ever understood me. You even understood the way I felt…feel about Stan."

"Because I feel that way about _you_."

"I know. And I know this is unfair, but I don't want to lose you as a friend."

He ran a fingernail along a groove in his desk, where someone had begun to carve his initials into it with a pocket knife. "We can't be friends, Wendy. How do you expect me to forget about you when you're always around?"

Her lip trembled. "I don't want you to forget about me."

He met her eyes. "Well not everything can be about what _you want_, Wendy."

Her eyes glistened with tears, but Cartman willed himself not to look away again.

"We had sex, Eric," she whispered. "Maybe it's selfish of me, but I don't want my first time to be something you try to forget. I want it to have meant something to you."

"It did! You're the one trying to pretend it didn't happen!"

She blinked, and a lone tear escaped her eye.

He sighed. "Try to understand _my_ feelings this time. I can't be just your friend. Not after what happened. So please let me move on."

* * *

"Cartman seems more unpleasant than usual today," Kyle commented, sliding down to the hallway floor beside Kenny.

"I take it you haven't talked to Wendy all weekend, then?"

"She wouldn't take my calls." Kyle frowned. "Why? What happened?"

"Cartman broke up with Wendy."

"Broke up?"

"He dumped her, dude. Sayonara."

Kyle raked a hand through his curls. "So, what, he gets what he wants from her and then sends her packing?"

"Come on, Kyle. Don't say it like that."

"Like what?"

"Like Cartman's the bad guy. He's not always the bad guy."

"Listen to what you're saying, Kenny."

Kenny rolled his eyes. "Cartman didn't use Wendy for sex, Ky. She used him."

Kyle closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the locker with a light _thud_. He didn't like the idea of Cartman being the victim. As Wendy's friend, he was naturally inclined to sympathize with her. That, and he wasn't exactly Cartman's biggest fan.

"Hey guys."

Kyle opened his eyes to see Bebe standing before them, pink backpack slung over one shoulder, her toes pointed toward each other in that awkward way they always did.

"Bebe," he greeted her. "What's up?"

"Where's Stan?" she asked, glancing around nervously.

"Being the ever-predictable wuss-ass that he is," Kenny replied, "Stan is ditching school today to avoid running into you."

"_Kenny_," Kyle hissed. Kenny just rolled his eyes.

"I'm kind of glad," Bebe admitted, rubbing the toes of her sneakers together. "To be honest, I was afraid of running into him too."

"Because you're cut-up over the breakup?" Kyle asked, a twinge of hopefulness in his voice.

"Because I'm _not_," Bebe responded. "Don't get me wrong, Stan is a terrific guy, it's just… He and I had no chemistry."

"Not to mention your obvious lady-boner for Craig," Kenny added. "And the fact that your dating Stan made Wendy hate you even more."

Bebe scratched her neck. "What do you mean?"

"Come on, Bebe. Everyone knows you like Craig."

She shook her head. "Not that. The part about Wendy."

Kyle sat up straight, knowing what Kenny was going to say before he even opened his mouth. He turned to his friend, shaking his head. "Kenny, don't," he warned.

"Wendy's got a thing for Stan," Kenny said with a shrug. "Why do you think she gets so jealous whenever you're around?"

Her eyes widened. "Shit, how come no one ever told me this?"

"Because it was _supposed_ to be a secret," Kyle said, sending Kenny a sharp glare.

Bebe pressed a hand to her forehead, spinning on her heels and rushing away, muttering something about finding Wendy.

Kyle frowned at Kenny. "_Dude_."

"What?"

"Wendy didn't want anyone to know that."

Kenny rolled his eyes. "Half the school has figured it out by now."

"Wendy didn't want _Bebe_ to know that."

"Well, Kyle, if you ask me, some secrets do more harm than good."

Kyle crossed his arms. "Yeah, well who asked you?"

"You weren't complaining when I told you all of Cartman's dirty little secrets."

"That's because I hate Cartman and I enjoy hearing about his suffering," Kyle responded. "Why anyone—even your best friend—would trust you with a secret to begin with is beyond me."

"_You_ trusted me with a secret," Kenny pointed out.

Kyle considered this with a thoughtful frown. He eyed Kenny, who was now resting his head against the locker behind him, his eyes closed, their conversation all but forgotten. For the first time since he'd come out to Kenny, he began to regret the decision.

* * *

Wendy scanned the cafeteria for a seat, her stomach fluttering uncomfortably.

Cartman, Kyle and Kenny sat at their usual table during lunch. Stan, evidently, had decided not to deal with school on top of his other problems that day. Wendy wished she'd done the same.

She felt the way she imagined a new student would feel on her first day of school. She knew where she wanted to sit, but she knew she wouldn't be welcomed there. It was a foreign sensation to Wendy. She'd never angsted over where to sit during lunch. Not when Kyle had broken up with her last year. Not when Craig had broken up with her freshman year. They had both been amicable break-ups; no hard feelings. It was interesting, then, that her break-up of sorts with Cartman would impact her so much more heavily. They hadn't even been dating. Two weeks ago, they'd barely been friends.

So why did losing him devastate her so much?

She made brief eye contact with Kyle as she stood with her tray, staring out into the cafeteria. He sent her a questioning glance, and she shook her head silently before making her way to an empty table.

She kept her head ducked down as she ate, not wanting to know who might be watching. She concentrated on working around her lunch tray in a circular pattern; a bite of chicken fried steak, a bite of mashed potatoes, a pear chunk, a green bean. It gave her something to focus on other than all of the eyes watching her lonely table.

When a shadow was cast over her and a tray dropped to the spot across from her, her first thought was that Kyle had stood up to join her. Her second thought was that perhaps Cartman had come to talk. But when she looked up, it was Bebe she saw sitting across from her.

Her face fell.

"What?" she asked irritably.

"I know you're upset," she began. "And I know it's my fault."

Wendy rolled her eyes. "As much as I'd like to blame you, I'm pretty sure this one's my fault."

Bebe tilted her head, confused. She seemed to be deciding how to proceed with their conversation. "Stan and I broke up," she finally replied.

Wendy raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "So?"

Bebe bit her lip. "Kenny told me you like Stan."

"So?" Wendy repeated.

"Well…I just want you to know I'd have never gone out with him if I'd known you liked him."

"Isn't that one of your requirements though?" Wendy replied snarcily. "Only date guys Wendy likes?"

"No!"

Wendy shook her head. "Whatever, it doesn't matter. I know you only went out with Stan to make Craig jealous.

"No I didn't."

Wendy raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"I _didn't_," Bebe insisted. "I…" She paused, hanging her head. "I _was_ using Stan. But not to get to Craig."

Wendy grimaced. "Don't tell me it was to get to Clyde…"

"_No_, Wendy. It was about you."

"I'm flattered, Bee, but I'm afraid I'm into guys."

"Not like _that_ Wends. It was just…you were my best friend. And then you suddenly started hanging out with Kyle all the time and I…missed you. And I thought if I went out with Stan…we'd be close again. The way we used to be."

Wendy sighed, setting down her fork. "Wow, Bebe, you really don't get it."

Bebe wrinkled her forehead. "Get what?"

"I started hanging out with those guys to get away from you!"

"…What?"

"I didn't want to be your friend anymore!" Wendy cried. "Did you think I liked living in your shadow? For God's sake, Bebe… When Kyle came along, I thought I was finally free of you. But, no, you're like a bad rash that just won't go away."

Bebe took a deep breath, standing up slowly and picking up her tray. "I'm sorry to have bothered you," she said calmly. "From the looks of things, I thought maybe you wanted some company. But if what you wanted was to be completely alone, I guess you got your wish."

And with that, Bebe stormed away, sliding back into her usual seat between Craig and Clyde.

Wendy glanced at Cartman, who was eating silently while Kyle and Kenny talked animatedly. She sighed, staring back down at her tray.

Bebe was right. Wendy was completely alone.

* * *

"If any two people should not be bringing children into the world, it's my brother and my sister-in-law," Kenny was saying as he pilfered a roll from Kyle's tray. "Those two are more white trash than my parents."

Cartman wasn't really listening to Kenny's banter. It wasn't anything he hadn't heard before—if you'd heard one story about his white-trash family, you'd heard them all. And besides, Cartman was distracted.

"Their coffee table is a sheet of plywood on top of two milk crates. I kid you not."

He was gazing over Kyle's shoulder, at Bebe's table. He'd just witnessed some sort of quarrel between Bebe and Wendy, and all he could focus on was what Wendy might have said to Bebe to upset her that way.

"Last week, Karen and I went down to their house. So I sit down on the couch, right? And it smells sort of weird, so I turn to Susan and say, 'Dude, this couch smells like sex and lasagna.'"

It wasn't that Cartman had taken a sudden interest in Bebe's personal life. He'd never given two shits about her before, and he didn't give two shits about her now. Logically, he knew that knowing what the fight was about would not help him with his Wendy situation. It might, however, help him hate Wendy a little bit. And he really wanted to hate her.

"Then Kevin goes, 'That's because we just had…lasagna.' And he looks at Susan and does that creepy eyebrow thing he always does to her when he talks about sex. And I'm like, 'Really, Kevin? You're still fucking her when she's eight months pregnant? Look at her. She's disgusting.'"

"Kenny!" Kyle exclaimed. "You can't say things like that right in front of a pregnant woman."

"Evidently not, because Kevin socked me in the gut. Knocked the wind out of me."

Cartman glanced over at Wendy. She was watching Bebe's table too, stabbing angrily at her green beans. His stomach twisted painfully.

"It's true, though. Pregnant women are gross. Heidi's started to pudge out. Have you noticed?"

Cartman shoved his tray away, his appetite gone. Kyle looked at him, raising his eyebrows.

"What?"

"_You're_ not eating?" Kyle asked in disbelief.

"Fuck off," Cartman replied. He glanced back at Bebe. She was standing, clearing her tray. "I've got to go," he said, standing abruptly. "Kenny, eat my lunch.

"Really?"

The blond was already going to work at his mashed potatoes before Cartman scooted out of the bench and took off to follow Bebe out the cafeteria door.

When he got to the hallway, Bebe was ducking into a nearby bathroom. He debated for a good two minutes on how to proceed, pacing in front of the door contemplatively, before slipping into the girls' room after her.

Bebe was at the sink rinsing her face when Cartman joined her in the bathroom. She twisted the water off and reached blindly for a paper towel to pat her face dry. As she moved to toss the towel into the trashcan, she caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror and gasped.

"Cartman, what the fuck?"

"Have you been crying?" he asked.

"No." She shoved her hands into her pockets. "Shut up."

"Your face gets all splotchy when you cry," he informed her. "It looks like a rash."

"Did you follow me into the ladies' room to make fun of my face?"

"Is this because Stan dumped you?" he asked, striding over to her side and leaning back against the countertop.

She stared at her splotchy reflection in the mirror. "Why do you care?"

He shrugged. "I saw you and Wendy arguing in the cafeteria. Just wondered what it was about."

"That's none of your business," she replied. "And anyways, why don't you just ask her? You're sort of friends with her."

He snorted. "Like hell I am."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Did she blow you off too?"

"Not exactly." He sighed. "It's just… Everything always has to be about how she feels, you know?"

Bebe nodded. "Exactly! Bust she can treat people however she wants."

He shook his head sadly. "I used to think that was so cool about her. It was something we had in common. Wendy does what the fuck she wants. But now…"

"You know what our fight was about?" Bebe said. "Wendy blames me for all of her failed relationships."

"She's jealous of you," he said simply. It was no secret. Bebe was clearly the last to know.

"Like it's my fault guys like me more than her. Like it's my fault that the one guy who didn't turned out to be gay."

Cartman almost jumped to Wendy's defense at that. Suddenly, trash-talking Wendy didn't seem so satisfying anymore. And Bebe was starting to sound a bit conceited. Not _every_ guy liked her more than Wendy. _He_ didn't. Self-centered as she could be, Cartman was still in love with Wendy, and…

He blinked.

"Did you say _gay_?"

Bebe clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh my God."

"Holy shit. You're talking about Kyle, aren't you? That's why he broke up with her. Because he likes dick."

She bit down on her knuckle anxiously. "That just slipped out. You can't tell her I told you. She wasn't supposed to tell me, and she'll _murder_ me if she finds out I told you."

He shook his head, his mind swimming. "No worries, Bebe. I won't say a word to Wendy. I'm not even talking to her right now."

She sighed. "Thank you."

He scooted away from her slowly, jabbing a thumb towards the door. "I should go. Lunch is almost over. Girls' bathroom will be filling up soon. I could be suspended."

Bebe nodded. "Yeah. Leave."

He strode away quickly, pushing through the swinging door. He smiled to himself as he walked down the hall, toward his next class.

"Never said I wouldn't mention it to Kyle," he muttered to himself, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

* * *

"Kyle Broflovski. Just the Jew I wanted to see."

What seemed like the longest school day of his life had just ended, and the students were just starting to clear out of the hallway. Kyle looked up to see Cartman approaching him.

He rolled his eyes. "And why would that be, Cartman?"

Cartman smiled widely, folding his hands behind his back and leaning forward to whisper into Kyle's ear, "I know your secret."

Kyle spun the dial on his padlock. "To my flawless skin?"

"Very funny, Kyle. You know, I hold a valuable piece of information about you. I'd take me a little more seriously if I were you."

"I know you too well to take you seriously," Kyle replied, pulling his locker open and dumping his stack of books inside.

Cartman grinned. "So tell me, last year when you and Wendy broke up. Was it because you came out to her on your own, or did she like, catch you with another dude?"

Kyle froze.

Cartman was bluffing. He had to be. There was no way he could know.

"We just…weren't into each other."

"Well, _you_ weren't into _her_."

Kyle closed his locker. "You know, your jokes just get less funny the more you tell them. And this one about me being gay was never funny to begin with."

"It's not a joke, Kyle. And a very good friend of yours would back me up on that."

His heart stopped.

Kenny.

"He told you," Kyle whispered.

Cartman's grin grew wider. "So it's true."

The hallway was empty by now. Kyle was alone with Cartman. And Cartman knew his biggest secret.

"So what are you gonna do?" Kyle asked.

Cartman pondered for a moment. "I don't know. I might save this for a rainy day. Stir up a little chaos. You know how I love to do that."

Kyle licked his lips. "Yeah, I know."

Cartman tilted his head to the side, still smiling. "So that's it? You're not gonna put up a fight? Come on, Kyle. I've been having a bad day. I was really looking forward to the fight."

Kyle clutched the strap of his backpack that hung over his shoulder. He stared at the floor.

"You're not the only one Kenny talks to, you know," he whispered.

Cartman shrugged. "Uh, so? What's your point?"

He looked up, into Cartman's eyes. "He tells me things too. Like how you're in love with Wendy."

Cartman's face screwed up into a grimace. Half angry, half confused. "What?"

"How she had sex with you," Kyle went on. "How she told you it was a mistake. How even after you poured your heart out to her, admitted how you felt, she still only has eyes for Stan."

"That little twat…"

"Hey guys!" Kyle and Cartman both turned to see Kenny rounding the corner, walking toward them. He offered them both a friendly grin. "What's up, Cartman? I've been waiting to walk home with you."

Cartman glared. "Walk home with yourself," he replied, turning around and marching away angrily.

Kenny stopped in his tracks. "Cartman? What did I do?"

"Ask your boyfriend!" Cartman shot back, disappearing down the hall.

Kenny turned to Kyle, concerned. "What the hell did you say to him?"

"Everything," Kyle replied evenly. "I just told him everything you told me about his relationship with Wendy."

"You swore you'd never do that."

"Just like you swore you'd never tell anyone that I'm gay."

Kenny furrowed his eyebrows. "I _didn't_."

Kyle shook his head in disgust. "I know you hate secrets, or whatever, but you had no right, Kenny. This secret was _mine_. It should have been my decision if and when to come out, and you had no right to make it _your_ decision."

"I never told anyone. I swear to God."

"Then how did Cartman know?"

"How should I know? I didn't say anything."

"Like you didn't tell everyone that Heidi's pregnant? Or you didn't tell Bebe that Wendy's in love with Stan? Or like you didn't tell me every intimate detail of Cartman's personal life?"

"Fuck." Kenny tugged his fingers through his hair. "_Fuck_."

He turned on his heels and started walking in the direction that Cartman had taken off.

"Where are you going?" Kyle called after him.

"To find Cartman," Kenny shouted in reply. "I need to fix this."

Kyle threw his backpack to the ground. "Go ahead!" he shouted after the retreating blond. "Go fix things with your best buddy! Just forget about the fact that you _completely FUCKED ME OVER_!"

Kenny was out of sight before the last words left Kyle's mouth.

Kyle sunk to the ground, joining his backpack on the floor and rested his head back against a locker. He squeezed his eyes shut, angry tears forming behind his eyelids.

"Fuck," he muttered to himself, tangling a fist into his curls.

He heard the soft pad of footsteps coming toward him, then the thud of a body landing on the floor beside him.

"You look like you're having a worse day than I am," he heard Wendy's voice greet him.

He opened his eyes, teardrops sticking to his lashes as he did, rolling his head against the lockers as he turned to face her.

"Kyle?" she said, looking concerned. "What's the matter?"

He let his head fall to her shoulder, and she slid her arm behind him instinctively.

"Wendy," he muttered miserably as she stroked a comforting hand through his hair. "My life is over."

* * *

**Have you ever had one of those days? You know, when you feel completely alone? When it feels like everyone's against you? When you wake up pantsless, in bed with one of your best friends?**

**Anyways, long chapter. Lots of drama. Too much crying. Everyone's an asshole.**

**No Stan in this chapter. Or Craig or Clyde. It was just easier this way. I had a lot to cover in this chapter. Anyways, the next chapter should be slower-paced and have a little more humor. We'll see.**

**I leave you with some Stan/Cartman dialogue:**

**Stan: What's there to hate about rainbows?**

**Cartman: Well, you know, you'll just be sitting there, minding your own business, and they'll come, marching in and crawl up your leg and start biting the inside of your ass. And you'll be all like, ay! Get out of my ass you stupid rainbows!**

**Stan: Cartman, what the hell are you talking about?**


	10. I Do What I Want

**This chapter is a bit more light-hearted than the last one, but it's still pretty drama-filled. At this rate, I may have to change the category from humor to drama. What do you think? Is there still enough humor in here to call it a humor fic?**

**This chapter is mostly dealing with the Kyle/Kenny aspect of the story. I'll be moving the focus back to the main story in the next chapter.**

**Please review, let me know how I'm doing.**

**I don't own South Park.**

* * *

**Beside Me in the Morning**

**Chapter 9: I Do What I Want**

"Cartman, wait up!"

Cartman pressed on through the snow, ignoring Kenny's calls. The little shit could go rot, for all he cared.

Unfortunately, though, Kenny's skinny ass moved faster than Cartman's, and his trailer trash feet were more accustomed to sub-zero temperatures. Seconds later, he was walking side-by-side with Cartman, not even wheezing for air, as Cartman always did after running to catch up with someone. He crossed his arms and pretended not to notice Kenny walking beside him.

"Cartman?"

Cartman ignored him.

"Cartman, will you talk to me, please?

"No," he replied. "_Shit_."

"Fine, you don't have to talk. Just listen."

Cartman whipped his head in Kenny's direction, scowling at his best friend. "Why don't you go talk to your butt buddy? He might listen to you."

"Um _no_. He won't. And besides, _you're_ the one I need to talk to."

"So you can explain why you shared every detail of my personal life with my mortal enemy?"

"So I can talk you out of whatever you're planning on doing to use Kyle's sexuality against him."

Cartman stopped walking, staring at Kenny in disbelief. "Seriously? You're here to save Kyle's ass? You're not even gonna try to apologize for spilling all my secrets to him?"

Kenny shook his head. "You're unbelievable. You're about to ruin someone's life, and you still think you're the one who's been wronged."

"You're supposed to be my best friend. You're supposed to be on my side."

Kenny sighed slowly, the mist from his breath rising in the cold air. "Look, I'm sorry I told Kyle those things about you. That wasn't my place. But forcing Kyle out of the closet or blackmailing him or whatever you're planning on doing…is just wrong. No one deserves that, especially not Kyle."

Cartman glared at Kenny. "I will do…whatever the fuck I want."

Kenny crossed his arms, looking away. "Yeah, you always do."

"You're fucking right I do."

"You know, I'm always the one to stand up for you. I give you the benefit of the doubt when you don't deserve it. And, yeah, maybe telling that stuff to Kyle makes me a bad friend, but you… You're just…a bad person. Maybe the reason I'm your only friend is that I'm the only one you deserve."

"_Were_. You _were_ my friend, Kenny."

"Good riddance. You're a selfish prick, Cartman. It's no wonder Wendy doesn't want you."

Cartman stared at Kenny in shock, his brows furrowed angrily. "You know, I was only gonna use this to intimidate Kyle. Freak him out a bit. But after talking to you… God, my only problem is deciding who I want to tell first."

* * *

"How long do you have to wait to ask someone out after they've broken up with someone?" Craig asked, sliding his tray onto the table across from Clyde's.

"I don't think Stan's interested, Craig," Clyde remarked, biting his bottom lip as he attempted to wedge his fork under his cast. The damn thing itched something fierce, and it made it hard for him to concentrate on anyone else's problems.

"I meant Bebe, asshole."

"I know that. I'm not an idiot."

"So, you think she'll say yes?" Craig wondered. "I mean, she didn't even like Stan that much."

"Whatever, Craig. Go for it. I don't care."

"That's real encouraging, Clyde."

Clyde sent his best friend an apologetic gaze. "Look, I'm trying really hard to care about everyone's drama. Really I am. But there's just so goddamn much of it. You're in love with Bebe, Bebe's pissed at Wendy, Bebe and Stan just broke up, blah, blah, blah. And none of that shit really matters to me when I'm off my pain meds and I literally have an itch that I can't fucking scratch."

"You don't have to be such an ass about it. You're the one who went and broke your arm."

"Go fuck yourself."

"What did I miss?" Bebe asked, situating herself at the table beside Clyde.

"Just Clyde being an asshole," Craig replied. "He's off his pain meds."

"You're the asshole," Clyde shot back pathetically.

"You're a whiny little bitch."

Bebe rolled her eyes. "Behave yourselves, boys. And Clyde, stop scratching."

"Yes, _mother_," Clyde muttered, dropping his fork.

"Look at that," Bebe said, nodding toward the door.

Clyde looked up, and Craig craned his neck around. There at the doorway, staring into the cafeteria like a lost puppy, was Eric Cartman.

Craig turned back around in his seat. "So?"

"He looks like he has no one to sit with."

"That's his fucking problem."

"We can't let him sit by himself."

"That's what you said about Wendy yesterday," Clyde pointed out. "And this is Cartman. You hate Cartman. Everyone does."

"I don't _hate_ him," Bebe insisted. "Cartman and I have a lot in common."

"Oh?" Craig raised an eyebrow. "Are you secretly a fat bastard and we just don't know it?"

"He's…misunderstood."

"Bebe, I have heard many, _many_ colorful words used to describe Cartman. 'Misunderstood' has never been one of them, nor should it ever be."

Bebe ignored Craig's comment, waving at the chubby teenager. "Cartman, over here!" she called.

"Great," Clyde muttered, as Cartman made his way to their table. "Just when I thought my day couldn't get any better."

* * *

"Good lord," Stan sighed, sitting down at his regular table across from Kyle and Wendy. "I miss one day and everything's different. Since when is Cartman friends with Bebe?"

Kyle shrugged. "Who cares about that asshole?"

Stan glanced around the table. "Hey, where's Kenny?"

Kyle groaned. Wendy patted his shoulder.

"Kyle, just relax, okay?"

Stan furrowed his eyebrows, staring at his friends. He had the distinct feeling that he was terribly out of the loop. "Am I missing something?"

"It's nothing," Wendy assured him, although it did nothing to ease him mind.

"You guys, seriously. What's going on?"

"It has nothing to do with you," Kyle snapped.

Stan drew back, stunned. "I'm sorry. I was under the impression that we were best friends and that we were involved in each others' lives."

Kyle drew a hand through his curls. "You're not involved in anyone's lives Stan. You're too involved with yourself."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"When's the last time you asked me anything about my life?"

"I'm asking now."

"Will you two cut it out," Wendy snapped. Her hand moved up from Kyle's shoulder to give him a good thump on the back of the head.

"Ow!" Kyle cried. "What the hell was that for?"

"For being a dick. Stan's not the one you're mad at, Kenny is."

Kyle rubbed his head. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

"Mad at Kenny?" Stan repeated. "Why?"

Kyle' eyes flickered down to the table.

Stan tilted his head to the side. "Kyle? What's with all the secrecy?"

"I'm just mad at him, okay?" Kyle mumbled.

"Look, if you want me to be mad at Kenny with you, I will. You just have to give me a reason."

Kyle clenched his jaw. "If you really want to know, why don't you ask Kenny? I'm sure _he'll_ tell you anything. Or better yet, go ask Cartman."

Stan glanced over at Bebe's table. "Cartman's in on this too?" He shook his head, turning his attention to his lunch. "Jesus Christ, I miss one day…"

* * *

Kenny's stomach let out a low rumble. He sunk lower in his seat, ducking behind the library book he'd randomly selected from the shelf. _The Complete Works of Robert Frost_.

He hadn't eaten a thing all day. On a normal day, he would have pilfered food from Clyde's backpack during study hall or his friends' trays during lunch. Today, however, he'd opted to skip both. Neither Cartman nor Kyle wanted anything to do with him, and at that point, it was easiest just to avoid both of them. If that meant not eating, well, so be it. He'd gone for longer periods of time without eating.

His stomach gave another cry of protest, and he clenched his gut to silence the growling.

"Hey, do you want a granola bar or something?"

He lowered his book to see Heidi approaching him, holding out a Quaker Oats bar. He accepted gratefully, tearing off the wrapper and sinking his teeth into the granola.

"I have some Saltines in my bag too," Heidi offered, taking the seat beside him. "They're supposed to help with the morning sickness."

"No thanks," he replied around a mouthful of granola. "My morning sickness is under control."

"Funny." She pulled a sleeve of crackers from her backpack and took a bite of one. "I've been eating twice as much as I used to. And throwing it up every morning. My parents have noticed. They think I'm bulimic."

He eyed her up and down critically. "Did they tell you it's not working?"

She threw a half-eaten cracker at him, pouting. "Asshole."

Kenny shrugged. "On the bright side, your boobs look incredible."

She perked up. "Thank you."

"So, uh…" Kenny took a bite of his granola bar. "How come you're holed up in the library during lunch? Don't you have friends?"

"Don't you?"

"Touché."

Heidi picked up another cracker and nibbled on the corner. "My friends aren't really talking to me right now."

"What about Token?"

"We broke up."

Kenny frowned. "Did that shithead dump you because you're pregnant?"

She placed a hand on her stomach. "It's… It's not his. That's actually why I told you first."

Kenny's eyes widened. "Holy shit, is it mine?"

She rolled her eyes. "No. But I didn't know how to tell Token I was pregnant…"

"…and you knew he'd find out anyway if you told me," Kenny finished. "God, am I that bad?"

"You do have a reputation for having a big mouth."

He sighed. "No wonder Kyle thinks I told Cartman that…"

Kenny's voice trailed off, and Heidi tilted her head curiously.

"Told him what?"

Kenny shook his head. "I, uh, can't tell you."

"So, Kyle's mad at you? Is that why you're in here instead of out there?"

He crumpled up his granola bar wrapper and tossed it in the direction of the trashcan, missing by about a foot. "I'm getting what's coming to me, I guess," he sighed.

Heidi nodded, biting into her Saltine. "Yeah, me too."

"So, uh, who's the baby's daddy?" Kenny asked, reaching for a cracker.

"He doesn't go here. You wouldn't know him."

"And your parents don't know?"

She shook her head. "I can't tell them."

"They're bound to find out. You know, when you start to get really fat. Or, at the very least, when you're pushing an eight-pound monster out your vag."

"I guess I'll just wait until then to tell them."

"Have you seen a doctor at least?"

Heidi shook her head.

"Seriously? What are you, like four months along?"

She bit her lip. "I'm sort of lost about this whole thing. I think I'm in over my head."

"Well, my sister-in-law is about to have a baby, and she and my brother would be glad to help you out. I mean, they don't have money or anything, but Susan knows all sorts of baby shit that you'd never even think about."

"Really?"

"Are you doing anything after school?"

Heidi snorted. "Yeah right. With who?"

"Meet me at my locker when we get out of class. I'll take you to Kevin's house."

"Are you sure this is okay?"

"Of course. Kevin is… What's the word for when you care about pregnant teenagers and shit?"

"Compassionate?"

"Sappy."

Heidi smiled, nodding. "Okay, yeah. I'll see you after school."

* * *

"You should tell Stan," Wendy whispered, leaning across the aisle to Kyle's desk.

"I didn't ask for your input."

"He's your best friend."

"Best friends don't stay best friends forever. Look at you and Bebe."

"That's not gonna happen with you and Stan. At least not if you're honest with him." She bit her lip, glancing across the room at her ex-best friend. "I was never honest with Bebe," she admitted.

Kyle sighed. "It's just that the more people know about me, the more I feel like pretty soon everyone will know."

"He's gonna find out anyway. Wouldn't you rather he heard it from you than from Cartman?"

"I guess so."

"How come you could tell Kenny but not Stan? Stan can keep a secret better than Kenny. Everyone knows that."

"Yeah, but I don't…" Kyle swallowed, looking around the classroom.

Wendy nodded, understanding. Kyle didn't _like_ Stan. As for Kenny…

"Do you still…? You know."

"Believe me, Wendy. I wish I didn't."

"I know what you mean."

She glanced back in Bebe's direction. Cartman was sitting in the desk next to Bebe, hunched over his math assignment, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on his assignment.

"He kept calling me yesterday," Kyle whispered. "Leaving me messages."

"Did you listen to them?"

"No."

Wendy shrugged. "Maybe you should."

"So he can insist he didn't do anything wrong?"

"How do you know he did?"

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Wends, the only people I've told are Kenny, Ike and you. Why should I doubt that it was Kenny? My own brother would not sell me out to Cartman. And I know you'd never tell anyone."

Wendy nodded.

She cared about Kyle too much. He was her best friend. Of course she'd never tell anyone he was gay.

Except… Her mind wandered to Craig's birthday, the day Stan had convinced her to hang out with Bebe. She _had_ let it slip to Bebe that day. It had been an accident, of course, and she'd made Bebe swear never to repeat it.

Of course, that was before yesterday. Before the fight they'd had at lunch. And before Bebe and Cartman had inexplicably latched onto one another.

She turned back to look at Bebe, who was now bent over Cartman's desk, pointing out some flaw on his math paper.

Shit.

Shit shit shit shit _shit_.

"Shit."

Kyle furrowed his eyebrows. "What?"

Wendy licked her lips, breathing deeply as she turned back to face Kyle.

"I have to tell you something," she whispered. "And you're not gonna like it."

* * *

Based on the number of voicemails Kenny had left Kyle the previous day, begging him to answer his phone so they could talk, Kyle thought the blond would be thrilled to find him waiting by his locker after school. Evidently, he'd been foolish in believing this.

Kenny scowled when he saw Kyle, nudging him out of the way so he could reach his padlock.

"If you're expecting an apology, you're wasting your time. I didn't tell Cartman anything."

Kyle scratched his arm awkwardly. "I know. That's why I'm here."

Kenny turned the dial on his lock. "This should be good. So, who spilled the beans?"

"It was Wendy."

"Wendy?" Kenny paused to look at Kyle skeptically. "Really?"

"Indirectly."

He nodded, turning back to his locker. "So are you gonna give her the cold shoulder too now?"

"She didn't mean to tell. And she didn't actually tell Cartman, exactly. It was Bebe…"

"I didn't tell him either," Kenny pointed out. "That didn't stop you from icing me out."

Kyle crossed his arms. "Well can you blame me? You've blabbed every other secret anyone's ever told you."

"Great. So this is somehow still my fault," Kenny muttered, wrenching open his locker.

"Will you knock off the guilt trip and just accept my apology?"

Kenny dumped his books unceremoniously into his locker. "What apology? Making excuses is not the same as apologizing."

Kyle sighed, lowering his hands to his sides. "You're right," he said slowly, calmly, quietly. "I jumped to the wrong conclusion. I should have given you a chance to defend yourself. I'm sorry."

Kenny stared hard at Kyle, clutching his locker door. Kyle shifted uncomfortably.

"So…am I forgiven?"

Kenny closed his locker slowly. "Well, that seemed heartfelt enough. And I know how hard it is for you to admit when you're wrong."

"It is not!" Kyle cried indignantly.

Kenny gave him a little half-smile, which would have made Kyle weak in the knees. If he was _that_ kind of gay.

"It's cute how stubborn you are," Kenny remarked teasingly.

Kyle was the gayest gay ever to gay in Gaysville.

"And look," Kenny went on. "I know I have a big mouth. And I can understand why you'd think…" He licked his lips. "But I'd never tell anyone _that_. I promise."

Kyle smiled. "Can we be friends again?"

"Did we stop being friends?"

Kenny opened his arms, and Kyle welcomed the hug, wrapping his own arms around his friend's torso and planting his chin on Kenny's shoulder. He gave the blond's hair a subtle sniff before pulling away.

When they pulled apart, Kenny's cheeks had taken on a slightly pink tint. He gave his best manly cough and crossed his arms. Kyle smiled, shaking his head.

"So, you wanna come over?" he offered. "Stan's got other plans, so it'd be just you and me."

"Actually…" Kenny zipped up his jacket. "…I have other plans too."

Kyle tried not to seem too disappointed, but he couldn't help it if his face fell just a little bit. "With who?"

Kenny didn't need to answer, because she arrived as if on cue, sidling up to the blond and clutching her barely-protruding belly.

"You two are talking again," Heidi commented. "That's great."

Kyle faked a smile. "Yeah."

Kenny grinned, offering the pregnant girl his arm. "Ready to go?"

"Ready," she replied, linking her hand over the crook of his elbow.

The two of them waved goodbye to Kyle, walking arm-in-arm down the hall. Kyle stared after them as they left, his heart sinking, disappointed in himself for wanted something he could never have. And for believing, however briefly, that Kenny could want him too.

* * *

Cartman's basement was a sweet escape when he got home from school.

He knew Bebe meant well in offering her friendship, and he was forced to accept it, seeing as he didn't have any other offers. But _Jesus Christ_, having to suffer through lunch with Bebe, Craig and Clyde. And he'd thought his _own_ friends were pathetic. It was no wonder Wendy ditched those three.

Bebe's problem was that she tried to fucking hard to please everybody. Craig, on the other hand, didn't try at all. And Clyde might have been trying, but the boy was just to fucking clueless to get it right.

After putting up with Craig's constant dry remarks during lunch, listening to Clyde complain about his stupid broken wrist, and having Bebe go as far as to sit next to him in math so she could help him out because he'd let slip that it was his worst subject, he was glad to get home and retreat to his empty basement.

He made his way around the room, lighting each of the lamps, and stopped at the record player to put on an old Beatles album.

No sooner had he flopped down on the old couch, than he heard footsteps thumping down the stairs. He groaned, shaking his head. He'd finally gotten away from everybody. He was not in the mood for company.

"Whoever you are, just turn yourself around and march right back up those stairs," he ordered.

"It's me," a voice responded, steadily growing nearer to him.

"Great," Cartman muttered. "I was just thinking to myself, 'Buck up, Eric. Your day could have been worse. At least you didn't have to look at Stan's ugly mug all day.'"

Stan stepped into view, frowning at the larger boy. "Thanks."

Cartman sighed. "So? What do you want?"

Stan held up his hands, shrugging, as he gazed around the basement. "To check out this cool new pad I've heard so much about?"

Cartman nodded. "Why are you really here?"

Stan dropped his hands to his sides, approaching Cartman and taking a seat beside him on the couch. "I want to talk to you," he replied.

Cartman rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Stan. I figured as much. What do you want to talk to me about?"

Stan looked down at his lap, tugging absent-mindedly at as loose thread on the armrest of the couch. "Everyone's keeping secrets from me," he explained finally. "I want to know what's going on."

"Did you try Kenny? He's good at sharing other peoples' secrets."

Stan threw up his arms. "Why does everyone keep saying that? What the hell did Kenny do to piss everyone off?"

Cartman raised his eyebrows. "So Kyle hasn't told you anything? Like…_anything_?"

Surely Stan, Kyle's best friend, knew that Kyle was gay. Kyle had to have told Stan.

"No. He hasn't told me anything. He's barely spoken to me. All I know is that I missed one day of school, and suddenly everyone's mad at Kenny, Kyle's mad at you, and you're suddenly buddy-buddy with my ex-girlfriend."

"Wendy hasn't told you anything either?"

"_No_. No one's told me anything. So will you _please_ fill me in?"

Cartman crossed his arms. "Maybe I don't want you to know either."

Stan looked desperate. "Cartman, _please_. I feel like I'm losing my best friend. I feel like I'm losing _all_ of my friends."

"Even me?"

"What?"

Cartman licked his lips. "Am I one of your friends?"

"Dude, yes. You're my friend. What the hell kind of a question is that?"

Cartman sighed. "Fine. I'll tell you."

Stan blinked. "You will?"

"It's sort of a long story, though. I don't really know where to start."

His friend nodded, waiting patiently.

"First of all," Cartman told him, "you might not want to sit on this couch, because Wendy and I had sex on it."


	11. You Go to Hell and You Die!

**Hello, friends! Sorry about the long wait. Classes have been kicking my ass. And I think this is the shortest chapter so far... And it's basically all dialogue. *sigh***

**Anyways, here it is. Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

**Beside Me in the Morning**

**Chapter 10: You Go to Hell! You Go to Hell and You Die!**

"Kyle?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you mad at me?"

Kyle lay down on his side across Wendy's bed, resting his head on her lap. "No," he murmured.

It had been another long fucking day, and Kyle didn't have the energy to be mad at anyone anymore. Not even Cartman. And he was always mad at Cartman.

Wendy ran a hand through his hair. "Are you gonna tell me what's wrong?"

He sighed. "Wendy, I'm…pathetic."

"No you're not!" she protested.

"Look at me," he insisted, sweeping his hands in a wide gesture over himself. "Who am I? I never used to be this pitiful wreck who wastes him time liking someone who'll never like him back. And who wears skinny jeans. I look like a fucking douche bag."

"I think the jeans look good on you."

"Well I hate them. Why do I have to care so much about what other people think of me?"

Wendy gave him a sympathetic smile. "Because you're human?"

"I'm gonna tell Stan."

"That you're human? He'll be happy to hear that."

Kyle narrowed his eyes at her. "That I'm gay."

Wendy smiled. "He'll be glad you told him."

"But what if it…" Kyle bit his lip. "…I don't know…changes the whole dynamic of our friendship. We've been best friends since we were in diapers. I just don't want things to change."

"They won't," Wendy assured him. "If anything, it will just make your friendship stronger. I mean, look at you and me."

"It's different with guy friends than it is with girl friends," Kyle argued. "Kenny practically accused me of trying to rape him after I told him."

"Well Kenny has more issues than Time Magazine."

Kyle turned his head to plant his face in Wendy's knee. "You know who he's with right now?" he murmured, his voice muffled by the fabric of her jeans. "Heidi Turner."

Wendy toyed with one of his curls. "Maybe he's trying to make amends. She doesn't really have a whole lot of friends since he told everyone she's pregnant."

"Don't be naïve, Wendy. You know the only reason a straight guy goes out with a pregnant woman."

"You don't know that's what he's after, Kyle. Maybe he actually likes her."

"This is Kenny we're talking about."

"Yes," Wendy replied, placing a hand on each of Kyle's cheeks and directing his gaze back up to her face. "And do you remember how things turned out the last time you accused Kenny of something without hearing him out? I think we both owe it to him to give him the benefit of the doubt this time."

He grimaced. "Would you think I was horrible if I told you part of me hopes he _doesn't_ like her and he _is_ just after sex?"

Wendy laughed. "Honey, do you really think I of all people would be the one to judge you for that? Shall I write you a list of all of the things I've done and said to people out of petty jealousy? You, on the other hand. You're one of the best people I know."

"Yeah, I am," Kyle agreed playfully, pushing himself up into a sitting position. "I just never saw myself turning into one of those…" He planted his hands on his hips and tossed his head back. "…bitchy gays."

Wendy snorted, giving him a little shove. "Kyle Broflovski, if you weren't gay I would _so_ jump your bones, you know that?"

"Thank you, Wendy. That's very sweet."

She leaned against him, wrapping her arms around his waist, and he returned the hug, squeezing gently and planting a kiss on her cheek.

It was at that moment that Wendy's bedroom door flew open and Stan burst in, eyeing the two of them suspiciously.

"Oh, God, don't tell me you're fucking Kyle too."

Wendy pulled out of Kyle's embrace. "Yeah, Stan. That's exactly what's going on. Good thing we hadn't gotten to the good part yet, since you clearly don't know how to knock." She crossed her arms irritably. "And what do you mean 'too'? Who else is fucking Kyle?"

Kyle smoothed out his shirt. "What are you doing here, man? I thought you said you had plans after school."

Stan strode over to Wendy's bedside. "I did," he responded. "I went to Cartman's to ask him what the hell is going on."

Kyle's breath caught in his throat. He looked at Wendy, who had turned rather pale.

"What did he tell you?" she asked quietly.

"Everything," Stan replied. "He told me everything. How the two of you had sex in his basement. How you told him it didn't mean anything. How he told you he had feelings for you. And how Kenny betrayed his trust and told all of this to Kyle."

Kyle cocked his head to the side. "Was that…all he told you?"

Stan shrugged. "Why, is there more? How is it all of this happened, and I'm the only one who didn't know about it?"

Kyle glanced at Wendy, who was staring at Stan like he'd lost his mind. "You didn't ask, Stan."

"What am I gonna do, sit down with you at lunch and say, 'Hey, Wendy. Have you had Eric Cartman's dick in you lately?'"

"And who cares if I have? It's not a crime to have sex, you know."

"But with _Cartman_? You don't even like the guy."

"Look, I don't owe you an explanation. It's my business who I have sex with."

"He's in love with you."

Wendy stood up. "And you're here now…why? To judge me?"

"Wendy, the guy is a mess."

"And I guess that's my fault. I must be a heartless bitch for not being in love with him too."

"You had _sex_ with him."

Wendy threw up her arms. "So? I have to be in love to have sex with someone? Is there some contract I was supposed to sign beforehand?"

She looked to Kyle for support, but he couldn't find the words to help her out. He turned his eyes down and began tracing patterns on her bedspread.

She pursed her lips. "So you think I'm the bad guy too?"

Kyle shrugged. "I don't know, Wends… I mean, don't get me wrong, I hate the guy. But…you kind of broke his heart."

"It wasn't like I planned it," Wendy replied, snatching up her coat from the back of her desk chair.

"Like you planned to break up me and Bebe?" Stan shot back.

Wendy laughed, tugging on her coat. "That's the real reason you're here? Because you think I broke you guys up?"

"Look, I know the real reason you don't like her is because you had a stupid crush on me. Cartman told me."

"Stan!" Kyle hissed.

"I didn't break you guys up. I didn't _have_ to," Wendy retorted, zipping up her jacket and marching toward her bedroom door. "She never liked you to begin with. She told me so herself." She spun around in her doorway to face him one last time. "And the word is 'have', Stan. Present tense. I _have_ a stupid crush on you, you insensitive ass."

Kyle sighed. "Wendy, where are you going?"

"Out," she snapped, slamming the door behind her as she left.

Stan shoved his hands into his pockets, turning and looking at Kyle guiltily. "That didn't go the way I pictured it."

Kyle snorted. "With Wendy? Dude, you've got to be crazy."

"You think one of us should go after her?" Stan asked, sitting down beside Kyle on Wendy's bed.

"Bad idea."

"You'd know better than me. She's _your _best friend."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "You're my best friend, Stan."

"Come on, Kyle. Whatever time you don't spend with Wendy you spend with Kenny."

"We've both been dealing with our own shit. That doesn't mean you're not still my best friend."

Stan leaned back on his elbows, looking up at Kyle curiously. "What shit have _you_ been dealing with?"

"Oh, you know," Kyle said casually, waving his hand dismissively. "School. Parents. I'm gay."

Stan raised an eyebrow. "You're gay?"

Kyle sighed, lowering himself so he sat at eye-level with his best friend. "I know I should have told you a long time ago."

"Wendy knows?"

Kyle smiled sheepishly. "I chose the wrong girl to be my beard."

"Who else knows?"

"Kenny. Cartman. Ike, Bebe, possibly my parents…"

"So basically everyone but me?"

"Believe it or not, Stan, it's not really about you."

"I know, but… You could have told me."

Kyle bit his lip. "I only didn't because I care too much about your opinion of me."

Stan smiled, bumping his shoulder lightly against Kyle's. "Well, for the record, it hasn't changed."

"Good," Kyle replied. He stood up, straightening his jeans. "Let's get out of here. I feels weird being in Wendy's room without her."

"So…you and Wendy _aren't_ fucking then?" Stan said, following Kyle out of the room.

"Bite me, Stan."

* * *

Heidi rubbed her stomach nervously as Kenny reached up and rapped on the rotting door. He took a step back, standing next to the pregnant girl.

Seconds later, they heard footsteps coming their way, and the door creaked open just wide enough to reveal a man in his early twenties, unshaven and wearing nothing but a raggedy pair of sweatpants.

He rubbed his eyes. "Ken? What's up?"

"Hey, Kev," Kenny greeted his older brother. "Is Susan around?"

Kevin yawned, scratching the back of his neck sleepily. "She's at her mom's. Why?"

Kenny wrapped an arm around Heidi's shoulder. "We need some advice," he explained.

Kevin blinked, noticing Heidi for the first time. He furrowed his brow. "Who are you?"

"This is Heidi," Kenny replied. "Heid, this is my brother, Kevin."

Heidi stuck an awkward hand out toward him. "Nice to meet you."

Kevin ignored her outstretched hand. "Is she pregnant?"

Kenny sighed. "Kevin, it's not like you think."

"Dammit, Kenny. I told you this was gonna happen, didn't I?"

"It's not Kenny's," Heidi jumped in.

Kevin pursed his lips, glancing back and forth between his brother and the girl.

"He's just…" Heidi licked her lips. "…the first person who's been nice to me in months."

"And the father…?"

"Is not in the picture."

"She doesn't have anyone else," Kenny told him, clearly knowing what to say to tug at his brother's heartstrings.

Kevin sighed, swinging the front door open. "Come in."

Kenny ushered Heidi inside and Kevin closed the door behind them. Kenny led Heidi to the couch, and she shoved him away lightly when he tried to help her to her seat.

"I can sit down by myself."

"Sorry," Kenny mumbled, sitting beside her.

"Susan will be at her mom's all day," Kevin said, perching himself on the edge of the sheet of plywood he called a coffee table. It rocked slightly on the milk crates it rested on, but held his weight. "But I'll help however I can."

"I don't…" Heidi glanced nervously at Kenny, rubbing her stomach. "I don't really know where to begin. I don't know what I'm doing."

Kevin wiped his palms on his sweatpants. "Well…are you gonna have it?"

Heidi blinked. "Have it?"

Kevin leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You haven't considered all of your options, have you?"

Heidi swallowed. "You mean like an abortion?"

"It's only a suggestion. You may want to think about it."

"Isn't it dangerous?"

"More dangerous than carrying a child to term and giving birth?" Kenny pitched in.

"It's safe," Kevin assured her.

"Well isn't it expensive?"

"More expensive than a baby?"

"I'm not saying it's what you should do," Kevin said. "That's for you to decide. You should do what's best for you."

Heidi stared up at Kevin. "Do you think I should? Have the baby, I mean?"

Kevin sighed. "I can't tell you that."

"Well, you're having a baby, aren't you?" Heidi pointed out. "You must have an opinion."

"Maybe you should talk to your parents," Kenny suggested.

"My family is my future," Kevin replied. "When I think about what I want out of my life, I see Susan and our daughter. And that's all I want."

Heidi bit her lip.

"Now think about your future," Kevin said, staring back at the girl seriously. "What do you see?"

* * *

Cartman wasn't sure what time it was when he woke up, but he was freezing cold from the waist up and the record in the player was skipping. He squeezed his eyes tightly closed and curled his toes around the bottom of the afghan, trying to stretch it so the top could wrap comfortably around his shoulders. Alas, the blanket sprang from his feet and settled on his knees. He sighed.

"Mom!" he shouted toward the stairs. "I need a bigger blanket!"

He waited, but received no response.

"Mo-om!" he shouted again.

Finally, he heard footsteps thumping down the stairs. The record stopped suddenly and a soft blanket landed on his torso. He hummed contentedly, spreading the blanket out over his body.

"Thanks, Mom."

"I'm not your mom."

Cartman's eyes snapped open. "Wendy!" He sat up on the couch. "What are you doing here?"

"I came here to talk to you. And don't try to kick me out again, because I'm not leaving until I've said my part."

Cartman sighed. "Well, sit down then."

Wendy nodded, taking a seat on the couch beside him.

"Make it quick, yeah?"

Wendy narrowed her eyes at him.

"What?"

"How could you…?" She licked her lips. "Look, I don't know what you said to Stan to make me out to be the bad guy in all of this. I just came here to remind you of what really happened."

Cartman blinked. "Okay?"

"We had sex," Wendy stated.

"Thanks, Wendy. I'd forgotten that part."

"_We_ had sex, Cartman. As in _both_ of us. As in, I didn't have any more sex with you than you had with me."

"Yeah, Wendy, I know that."

"Then why are you making it sound like I conned you into it?"

"You _used me_ for sex."

"You didn't have to have sex with me. You could have said 'no'."

"I'm a guy."

Wendy stood up. "So? Being a guy is not a handicap, Eric."

"You know what I mean."

"What? That because you're a guy, it's natural for you to want to have sex, but since I'm a girl I must be a manipulative bitch with some ulterior motive?"

"I didn't say that."

"Didn't you?"

"Wendy, sit back down…"

"Do you know why I had sex with you?"

Cartman sighed. "Why?"

"Because I wanted to."

Cartman clenched his fists under his blanket. "I told you that I'm in love with you."

"Yeah, you did," Wendy snapped. "And ever since then, you've done nothing but make me feel guilty. For having sex with you. And for not loving you back. But when Stan burst into my bedroom today and started flinging accusations at me, I realized something."

"And what would that be?"

"That I've done nothing wrong. I'm not gonna apologize anymore for having sex and not wanting to sign a marriage contract the next day. And I'm not gonna feel guilty for not being in love with you just because you think I owe it to you."

He set his jaw. "Is that all?" he muttered through his teeth.

"That's all," Wendy replied, crossing her arms. "If you want to kick me out now, you can."

Cartman lay back down on the couch, turning away from her and pulling his blanket over his face. "Get out."

* * *

"Have you talked to Wendy yet?"

Kyle nodded, opening his locker. "She's not mad anymore. Not at me, at least."

"So, I've been thinking more about this gay thing…"

"Keep your voice down, Stan."

"…and it made me wonder something."

Kyle groaned. "Here it comes."

Stan raised an eyebrow. "Here comes what?"

"The endless string of 'If you're gay, does that mean…?' questions," Kyle replied, digging through his locker. "Go ahead. What do you wanna ask me? As long as it's not a 'What does it feel like?' question, because I already told you I've never done it."

"How come you've never tried it on with me?"

Kyle laughed, locating his hat in the back of his locker and tugging it over his head. "Are you for real?"

"What, am I not attractive enough or something?"

"You're smoking hot, Stan. Is that what you wanna hear?"

"Yes. That was what I wanted to hear."

"But you're also my best friend," Kyle explained, closing his locker. "It'd be like kissing my brother."

"Ouch."

"And besides, I'm still firmly in the closet. I've never tried it on with anyone."

"Well, you're missing out, because I happen to be a major catch," Stan teased.

Stan heard a scoff from behind him. He craned his neck to see Kenny rounding the corner, shaking his head lightly.

"You told him then," he remarked, sidling up to Stan.

"Yes, Stan's in the loop now," Kyle replied.

"About time," Kenny remarked. He nudged Stan's shoulder with his own. "Already trying to get in his pants then? That's shameful, Stan."

"Um, I'm straight," Stan corrected him. "I was merely wondering why _he_ hasn't tried to get into _mine_."

Kyle crossed his arms. "Seriously though, guys. Keep your voices down. I don't want the whole world to know."

Kenny grinned, looking Kyle up and down. "You're wearing your hat again?"

Kyle tugged at his ear flaps protectively. "I like my hat."

Kenny shrugged. "That's alright. It suits you anyways." He glanced at Kyle's pants. "Back to the old jeans too?"

Kyle shook his head. "The skinny jeans are staying in the closet."

"Such a shame to hide that ass from the world."

Kyle blushed. Stan wrinkled his forehead pensively.

"Hey, it's Kyle's ass, and he can do with it as he pleases," Stan defended his best friend.

"Hey, that's fine with me," Kenny replied with a shrug. He glanced down the hallway, his chin raising slightly as he spotted someone over Kyle's shoulder. "There's Heidi. I should go talk to her."

Kyle shifted uncomfortably. "You don't usually talk to them the next day," he commented.

Kenny squinted. "What?"

"Nothing."

"You should go if you want to catch her before class," Stan advised.

Kenny nodded, waving briefly at his friends before trotting down the hallway. Kyle turned to watch him leave, his shoulders sagging.

Stan tilted his head to the side. "Oh my god."

Kyle turned back to his best friend. "What?"

"Kenny? Come on, Kyle. I'm better looking than Kenny."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Stan."

* * *

Craig let out a loud groan as Cartman slid into the seat beside him. "Are we letting him sit with us again?"

"Craig!" Bebe scolded.

"It's not like you're the best company either," Cartman shot back. "I can sit somewhere else."

"Stay where you are," Bebe ordered, clutching the edge of Cartman's chair to keep him from moving.

Cartman looked at Clyde, his eyebrows raised. "Seriously, do they always fight like this?"

Clyde nodded, shimmying a straw under his cast. "Believe me, I've tried everything to get them to stop. I think it would take an actual miracle."

"Well if that's the case, maybe I don't want to sit here."

"Stay put!" Bebe ordered, her lips pursed.

"If he wants to leave," Craig replied, "I say, let him."

"And I say, be _nice_."

On her last word, Craig gave a little jump in his seat, his hands flying under the table to his shin.

"Did you just _kick_ me?"

"It was a love tap," Bebe replied, sipping her milk. "On the shin. With my heel."

Cartman rolled his eyes. "Well, make up your minds. Am I staying or leaving?"

"You're staying."

Craig sighed in defeat and Clyde merely continued to scratch under his cast.

"Alrighty then," Cartman said, picking up his fork.

"I don't get why you have to try to see the good in everyone," Craig muttered.

Bebe rolled her eyes. "If I didn't, I wouldn't be friends with you assholes, would I?"

"Hey!" Clyde cried.

"There's nothing wrong with being nice to people, Craig. You should try it sometime."

"Says the girl who just kicked me in the shin," Craig shot back. "Anyways, it's Cartman. He doesn't deserve our sympathy."

Cartman scooped up a forkful of macaroni. "I'm still sitting right here."

"I know."

Bebe stabbed a green bean with her fork. "I like to give people the benefit of the doubt."

"That's noble of you," Cartman deadpanned, shoveling his macaroni into his mouth.

"It sounds like an invitation to walk all over you," Craig commented.

"Beats pushing everyone away," Bebe retorted.

"My god," Cartman muttered around a mouthful of mac and cheese. He swallowed. "Will you two just fuck and get it over with already?"

Bebe and Craig went silent, both becoming suddenly interested in their own trays.

"Ha." Clyde looked up from his turkey sandwich at Cartman, grinning. "You can stay."


	12. Move Along, People Nothing to See Here

**Well, I bet you never expected this update to come, but here I am. To be honest, I wasn't really expecting to continue this story either. I won't go into detail here, but some shit happened and I just didn't have it in me to write for the longest time. But I recently decided to reread what I had of this story, and it suddenly seemed worth continuing, so here you go. (I wanted to continue Sticks and Stones too, but I actually don't remember what that story was supposed to be about, so that one's gonna take more time.) So, sorry for the horribly long wait. And, well, in regards to this chapter, let me just reiterate that I have not written in a LONG ASS TIME. Anyways, enjoy? Maybe?**

**Beside Me in the Morning**

**Chapter 11: Move Along, People. Nothing to See Here.**

Monday started and ended with a kiss.

That morning, Stan knew that the worst of his breakup was behind him when he saw the red construction paper hearts hanging by pink ribbons from the ceiling of the South Park High hallway and had no urge to tear them down and stomp them into the carpet. Valentine's Day was fast approaching and, surprisingly, he was not depressed about being single on the oh-so special day. In fact, he seemed to be the only student in the school without some sort of romantic drama in his life, and he was beginning to think Kyle was on to something with his whole "be happy being single" pep talk.

That weekend, he'd purchased a box of Little Mermaid valentines and selected one with a picture of Sebastian the crab especially for Wendy. He'd folded it shut along the crease and sealed it with a heart-shaped sticker, and even taped a sleeve of Smarties on the back under the "To: Wendy, From: Stan" box. It was cheesy, but exactly the kind of thing she went for. She hadn't spoken to him since his outburst in her bedroom, and it was starting to make him uneasy.

He tracked her down in the library, which was decorated with the same construction paper hearts as the hallway. She was sitting at a table in the corner, hunched over her history book, chewing on the end of her purple pen.

"Hey," he greeted her, taking the seat beside her.

"Hello, Stan." Wendy didn't look up from her book. "If you're here to copy my homework, the answer is no. Kenny already tried."

"That's not why I…" This conversation was already not going the way Stan had planned. "I just wanted to see how you were doing, that's all."

Wendy flipped the page in her text book. "Just peachy."

"I'm sorry about the other day."

Wendy didn't reply. She just scribbled down an answer on her homework, as if she hadn't heard Stan at all.

"Wendy."

"It's fine, Stan."

"Wendy."

Wendy clicked the end of her pen and set it down in the crease of her book. She looked at Stan impatiently.

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "I shouldn't have implied that… You're not a bad person just because you…had sex…with Cartman."

"Jesus Christ, Stan, could you sound _more_ judgmental?"

"I'm sorry, Wendy, I'm just trying to understand how…"

Wendy cut him off with a sharp glare, and Stan decided it was time to start over. He pinched his eyes closed and drew a deep breath.

"Okay, look. I know you weren't trying to hurt Cartman. I know that if you'd known how he felt about you, you'd never have…you know. Just like if I'd known how you felt, I would have been more sensitive. I'd never have gone to you for advice about Bebe, or whatever."

Wendy sighed. "I know."

"You know?"

She pinched her eyes closed, struggling to get her next words out. "I'm sorry too."

Stan's eyes widened. "You are?"

"You were right. About me trying to sabotage your relationship." Wendy grabbed her pen and started clicking the end rapidly. "I should have owned up to it, but I felt like you were attacking me, so I got defensive."

"We both could have been better friends," Stan offered lamely. "As for the other stuff, it's not my place to judge you. Even if you do have feelings for Cartman."

Wendy raised an eyebrow. "Feelings for Cartman?"

Stan nodded. "It's okay if you like him."

"Well, I appreciate your approval," she replied sarcastically, setting her pen back down. "But I do _not_ have _feelings_ for Cartman."

"Wendy, I just told you, I'm not judging you."

"Eric and I are…_were_ just friends."

"Right. Since when were you friends with _Eric_?"

"Since you became all wrapped up in your issues with Bebe and Kyle became all wrapped up in his…"

Wendy bit her lip, and Stan rolled his eyes. "Kenny, I know."

"He told you?"

"I've been working on this thing where I actually pay attention to what's going on in my friends' lives, and Kyle, it turns out, is not all that subtle. And neither are you."

"Stan, for god's sake," Wendy snapped, standing up and flipping her book shut over her purple pen. "I know who I like, okay? And as apologies go, this one sucks."

"Goddamnit," Stan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Backtrack again. This is not how this conversation was supposed to go. I brought you a valentine…"

Wendy pulled Stan's hand away from his face, and before he could blink, she was in front of him, inches away. "I know who I like," she repeated, this time in a whisper, before surging forward and capturing his lips in hers.

The kiss was warm and wet and urgent, and before Stan could really get into it, Wendy was pulling away, a look of horror on her face.

"I am. So. Sorry."

Stan cleared his throat. "I, uh, brought you a card. And some…candy."

"I have to go," Wendy whispered. And without another word, she shoved her belongings into her backpack and fled the classroom.

* * *

"Kenny!"

Kenny closed his locker to see Heidi rushing toward him, hugging her backpack across her chest.

"Hey, Heidi. What's up?"

She stopped in front of him, beaming. "I wanted to say thank you."

Kenny laughed. "What did I do?"

"You were nice to me," she replied, wrinkling her forehead as if it should have been obvious.

Heidi was sweet. Whatever people were saying about her—whatever Kenny himself had said about her in the past—was bullshit. Because this sweet girl in front of him, thanking him for showing a shred of human decency, did not deserve their hatred. The notion that he had been one of them just a few days ago made him sick to his stomach.

"Anytime, Heidi."

"And you gave me some good advice. Told me I should talk to my parents."

"How did that go?"

"They were supportive. They're even taking me to the doctor. Today after school."

"Oh. Baby's first ultrasound?"

"No. Um. Different kind of doctor."

"Oh. _Oh_. Was that your choice, or…?"

"My choice. It's what I want."

"Good."

Her gaze fell to the floor. "I mean, I want kids someday. Just not like this."

"You don't have to explain yourself." Kenny leaned against his locker. "And, look, I know it doesn't mean much coming from me, but I won't tell anyone. Not if you don't want me to."

Heidi laughed bitterly, tucking a lock of brown hair behind her ear. "Don't see how it would make any difference."

"I'm not following."

"Well, I can't stay here."

Kenny frowned. "You're leaving South Park?"

"Kenny, everyone already knows I'm pregnant. Do you know what kind of things they'll say about me when I don't have a baby in five months? What kind of things they'll _do_ to me? I can only deal with so much."

"You can't let them chase you away. Look, I can stand up for you. I won't let them talk."

Heidi sighed. "They're talking right now, Kenny. Look around."

Kenny glanced over her shoulder to see three freshman girls, huddled together and staring in their direction. A couple of basketball players were snickering quietly. Hell, even Cartman, Eric _fucking_ Cartman, was staring down his nose at them from across the hall.

Kenny swallowed. "When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow. I'm transferring to Conifer."

"Wow. That's soon."

"I need a fresh start."

"Yeah. I can appreciate that." Kenny licked his lips. "You'll keep in touch though?"

Heidi smiled. "If you want."

"I do."

"Great. Well, um." Heidi slung her backpack over her shoulder and pointed down the hallway. "I need to head to the office."

"Alright. Um. Good luck."

Kenny watched her walk away, his brow furrowed.

His entire life, Kenny's actions had never had consequences. He'd die and just come right back to life; fuck someone and never have to speak to her again. But for people like Heidi, it was different. The way people treated them was different.

"Really, Kenny? I mean, I knew eventually you'd have to find a new low to sink to, but…"

Kenny snapped back to attention, only to find Cartman where Heidi had been standing. He frowned.

"I haven't slept with Heidi."

"Yet?"

Kenny could already feel the anger swelling in his chest. "Don't talk about her like… You know what? Just don't talk about her."

"Because she's different from all your other conquests?"

"She's not a conquest. She's a person. And she doesn't deserve all this."

Cartman rolled his eyes. "Okay, just so I have this straight, they only deserve to be treated like shit _after_ you've slept with them?"

That stung. Because Cartman was as asshole, but he also knew Kenny better than anyone, and he was right.

"You're right," he murmured, his throat growing tight.

Cartman cocked an eyebrow. "I am? I mean, obviously I am, but…"

"I've hurt girls. Used them. Talked about them like they're less than human. And no one has ever punished me for it the way they're punishing Heidi."

Cartman squinted. "You know, I thought harassing you would be fun, but it's just kinda sad."

* * *

"This is so weird," Clyde mumbled, digging through his backpack.

"What's weird?" Craig asked, as Bebe slid in next to him at their lunch table. Much to his disdain, Cartman was not far behind her, taking the seat across from Craig.

"I could have sworn I had a peanut butter and banana sandwich in my backpack," Clyde replied, spilling the contents of his bag—two notebooks, a can of Pringles, a battered copy of _Of Mice and Men_, a smelly sling, and several pens—across the table. "How do my sandwiches keep disappearing?"

Cartman wrinkled his nose. "Because," he said, picking up the sweaty sling by the strap and dropping it back into Clyde's open backpack. "Kenny swipes them from your bag during study hall."

Clyde's jaw dropped. "But…my mom made her special homemade chokecherry jelly."

"Oh, good. Kenny will enjoy that."

Clyde pouted.

Bebe sighed. "Here, Clyde," she said, digging into her back pocket and pulling out a wad of cash. "Get something to eat."

"And quit carrying your lunch around with you all day," Craig added, stuffing a chicken nugget into his mouth. "It's weird."

"Thanks, Bee," Clyde mumbled glumly, accepting her money.

Clyde pocketed the bills and slid his belongings over the edge of the table, back into his bag.

"He's all angsty over a girl," Cartman announced to the table, as Clyde walked away. "It's…out of character."

"Who, Clyde?" Bebe asked, confused.

"No, Kenny."

"Aw, someone misses his best friend," Craig deadpanned.

Cartman clenched his fists indignantly. "I don't miss that traitor. Last thing I need is him running to Kahl with every detail of my love life."

"You have a love life?"

Cartman's eyes narrowed on Craig. "But since I can't talk to Kenny anymore, can I ask you something?"

"No," Craig replied, shoveling a forkful of macaroni into his mouth to demonstrate that, no, he would not be taking questions at that time.

"Well, I'm going to anyways," Cartman replied, because of course he was going to anyways. "So, obviously you still like Bebe…"

"Cartman!" Bebe cried, her cheeks going crimson.

Craig swallowed his bite of macaroni. "That…wasn't a question."

"Just let me finish. Hear me out, okay?" Cartman said, holding a hand up. "You and Bebe went out. She dumped you for no reason. You're still in love with her, or whatever…"

Craig clenched his jaw. "Are you gonna get to the point?"

"So why do you just go on being buddies with her like nothing's wrong?"

Craig glanced at Bebe, who was staring down at her hands, her face red with shame. The fact that Cartman was making her feel guilty only made Craig hate him more. And, okay, sure. Cartman was right. Craig _did_ still like Bebe, and he _didn't_ know why they broke up, and it _did_ hurt. But they were friends first, and they always would be. Craig couldn't imagine it any other way.

When they were in fifth grade, not long after Clyde started dating Wendy, Bebe got her first real bra. She was the first in the class, and, naturally, Cartman showed no mercy. After a week of crude nicknames and incessant bra-snapping, she went to the teacher for help, and the teacher's unhelpful response had been, "If a boy picks on you, it just means he likes you." One day during class, Bebe had let out an indignant shout after Cartman tugged on one of her bra straps that had fallen down past her sleeve. Craig, in response, had reached over and pulled the hem of Cartman's underwear up to his shoulders. Cartman got sent to the nurse's office. Craig and Bebe got sent to Mr. Mackey's office—Craig for giving Cartman a wedgie and Bebe for having visible bra straps. It was more than just the event that would spark Wendy's next passionate crusade. For Craig and Bebe, it would be the first time they would think of each other as friends.

They were inseparable after that. They had inside jokes that even Clyde and Wendy weren't in on. They spent their afternoons on Craig's couch, watching trashy soap operas. Most importantly, they had an unspoken understanding that when one of them was in need, they always had the other's back.

When they were in sixth grade, Craig fell behind in math. By the time the school year was nearly up, Craig had a failing grade, and the school was threatening to hold him back. Wendy did all she could to tutor him, but it turned out he was actually stupid and not just lazy. It looked as though Clyde, Bebe and Wendy would be moving on to South Park Junior High in the fall, and Craig would be stuck at South Park Elementary. But, miraculously, his score on his final math exam was enough to pull his grade up to a D. It wasn't until halfway through seventh grade remedial math that he found out Bebe had snuck into the classroom during recess that day and switched their names around on the test.

Craig had his first kiss with Wendy on the school bus during an eighth grade field trip. Bebe told him off later, telling him that kissing a girl on the bus was tacky and embarrassing. He didn't know at the time that she'd only said that because she was surging with jealousy, so he'd taken her words to heart, vowing then and there that there would be no more public displays of affection. Because for the first time in his life, he cared what someone thought of him.

Craig and Wendy hadn't really been all that close before they'd started dating, or even after they'd started dating for that matter, so when they broke up, it was easy to remain apathetic friends. With Bebe, it was different. She'd been his best friend and he'd fallen in love with her, and when she broke up with him out of the blue, he'd been devastated.

"It's hard," he said finally.

Bebe pinched her eyes shut. "Craig…"

He took a deep breath. "It doesn't make sense, and sometimes it's so frustrating that I just want to give up."

"Craig," Bebe whispered. "Please don't."

When Bebe broke up with Craig, he'd been crushed. And if it had been anyone else, Craig would have deleted her number and avoided her in the hallways. But this was Bebe, and there was no deleting her, because he had her number memorized. Breaking up meant that he couldn't hold her hand under the table at lunch or kiss her on his sofa while they watched trashy soap operas on mute. But their friendship was worth so much more to him than that.

Craig licked his lips. "But then I try to imagine my life without Bebe in it, and I know it would destroy me. As friends go, Bebe's the best one anyone could ask for, and I wouldn't give up what I have with her for anything. So if she just wants to be friends, I can be happy with that."

Bebe smiled. "Really?"

"Of course."

Cartman groaned. "I hate you guys so much more than my old friends."

Bebe grinned, and the next thing Craig knew, she was grabbing him by the face and pulling him into an unexpected but not unwelcome kiss. He leaned into it, weaving a hand into her hair. He had a policy on public displays of affection, but considering the circumstances, he was willing to make an exception.

At the sound of a tray clattering to the table in front of them, Bebe pulled away, and Craig looked up to see Clyde standing across the table from them looking astonished.

"I was gone for five minutes."

* * *

"I think Bebe and Craig are back together," Kyle said, sidling up to Stan at his locker.

Stan knew they were back together. He'd seen them making out in the cafeteria earlier that day, but his mind was too preoccupied with another kiss to pay them any attention. He considered that another positive sign that he was taking his breakup with Bebe rather well. As for the kiss from Wendy—well, he still didn't know what to make of that.

"I think the rule is, since I broke up with her, I'm not allowed to say anything when she starts dating someone else right away," he informed Kyle, digging around in his locker for his geometry book.

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Straight people and their rules."

"Shut up, dude. You've been gay for, like, twelve seconds."

"I've been gay my whole life. You've just known about it for twelve seconds, you self-absorbed prick."

Stan located his text book and slipped it into his backpack. "Right, well, speaking of me…" Kyle snorted. Stan met his best friend's eyes, his tone turning serious. "Wendy kissed me this morning."

Kyle choked. "What? When?"

"Before history class."

"And you managed to keep this quiet from me all day?"

Stan shrugged. "I didn't want to say anything in front of Kenny. You know he'd tell everyone and Wendy would get pissed at me again."

"Is that why she's avoiding us? I just assumed she was still mad about the other day."

"I was trying to apologize for the other day," Stan replied, closing his locker. "The next thing I knew, Wendy was kissing me and then running away. She's been avoiding me ever since. What do you think that means?"

"I'm supposed to know?"

"You're better friends with her than I am."

Kyle shook his head. "Girls are bizarre."

"Right? You're lucky you're gay, dude."

"Stan, if I ever hear you say those words again, I will…" Kyle's voice trailed off.

"Can't think of anything horrible enough to do to me?" Stan asked, zipping up his bag. He looked up at Kyle expectantly, but something else had caught his best friend's attention. "Dude, what?"

Stan followed Kyle's gaze down the hall, to where Kenny was standing against Heidi's locker, leaning close to talk to her.

Stan sighed. "Dude, I know he's our friend, but please believe I'm being completely genuine when I say that you can do better."

"I'm not bothered." Kyle crossed his arms. "He's just talking to her anyways."

Kenny leaned in closer, wrapping his arms around the girl.

"It's just a hug," Stan said automatically, placing a hand on Kyle's shoulder.

"It's none of my business what it is," Kyle muttered, shrugging Stan's hand away. "It's not like he is or ever will be my boyfriend. He can hug or kiss or…impregnate whoever he pleases."

"That was very convincing, Kyle."

"I'm not jealous," Kyle insisted. "You know, not everyone goes insane when the person they like is into someone else."

Kenny put his lips to Heidi's ear, whispering something to her. Kyle took a step forward.

"What do you think he's saying to her?"

"Does it matter?" Stan asked, adjusting his backpack on his shoulders. "Didn't you just say…?"

"I'm going over there," Kyle cut him off, squaring his chest and marching in Kenny's direction.

Stan rubbed his forehead. Right. Kyle wasn't jealous at all.

"Goddammit," he muttered, following his best friend.

Kenny and Heidi were pulling apart when Kyle and Stan reached them, and Kenny nodded a greeting to his friends.

"Bye, Kenny," Heidi said quietly, leaving Stan and Kyle with a polite wave before heading for the door.

"Don't forget to call!" Kenny called after her. Stan didn't miss the way Kyle's fingers twitched at that.

"What's going on?" Kyle asked casually. Or in a tone that Stan assumed was _meant_ to sound casual.

"I don't know," Kenny replied, picking up his backpack off the floor and swinging it over his shoulder. "We could go to Stan's again, if…"

"I meant with you and Heidi," Kyle cut him off, and, okay, he was sounding less and less casual by the second.

Kenny frowned. "What do you mean?"

Kyle rolled his eyes. "With the hugging and the 'call me'?"

Kenny laughed. "That's me being her friend."

"She's pregnant," Kyle pointed out.

"Which is why she needs a _friend_. Why are you being a dick?"

"I'm just curious."

Kenny crossed his arms. "I'm not sleeping with her, okay? I was just saying goodbye because she's transferring. Okay? Am I off the hook? Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Kyle shifted uncomfortably, having the decency to at least look slightly ashamed. "It's not what I _expected_ to hear."

"Yeah, and what did you expect to hear? That I only like her because she can't get any more pregnant than she already is?"

"Kinda."

Kenny narrowed his eyes at Kyle. "That's disgusting."

"That never stopped you before."

"Fucking Christ, Kyle, why are you up my ass?"

"Because I'm jealous!" Kyle blurted. Stan cringed.

Kenny just looked perplexed. "Why would you be jealous of me?"

"Not _of_ you, stupid," Stan offered helpfully.

Kenny's eyes widened. "Oh." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Wow. Um…"

Kyle closed his eyes. "Please don't say anything else."

Kyle's cheeks were quickly turning red and splotchy, which seemed unfair, considering how much he'd already embarrassed himself. It didn't seem right that he had to look like he'd dried his face with poison ivy too.

"Kyle…" Kenny said hesitantly.

"I'm serious, Kenny. Stop talking."

Kenny took a step closer to Kyle, raising his hands like a peace offering. "Kyle, it's okay if…"

"Fuck you, Kenny," Kyle cut him off, before taking a step forward and capturing Kenny's lips in a kiss.

"Dude, what the fuck?" Stan cried, which only caught the attention of anyone in the hallway who wasn't already watching the scene they were making. But seriously, was it Kiss a Friend Unexpectedly Day and someone forgot to mention it to him?

Kyle pulled away, panting softly. Kenny's eyes were wide.

"Oh my god," Stan whispered in disbelief. "You _kissed_ Kenny."

Kenny pressed a shaking hand to his lips. "You bastard."


End file.
